71. The Night of Treachery.

Silverbrush had to admit that Rugger and Windflight were a perfect fit for each other. Fear and revulsion she felt towards each of them individually were multiplied when she had to talk with both of them together, and she barely could keep her cool.

"…so that's all I heard while helping the wounded northeners. Unless they all are masters of lying, things went roughly as they said. Maybe with less woodlanders slain."

Rugger just looked at her, straight in the eyes, and drew a whetstone along his blade once again. Could he not find a better time for sword-sharpening than this meeting on a small clearing, away from the prying eyes of the camp, or was he doing it intentionally to tug on her already-frayed nerves? But she would still take this over Windflight's unceremoniousness. The larger vixen patted Silverbrush on the back. "Good job, big sis. Keep your spying up, and I'd believe you're really with us."

Silverbrush feared that her expression and tone looked obviously tortured, when she answered. "You know that there is nobeast else for me to be with anymore."

"Really?" Windflight who almost moved to Rugger's side stopped and looked at her. "I heard Enjo's old buddy, Cap'n Saltwhisker, was fond of you. But never mind, his raiding party must be heading back to the camp, so I'd take a score or three of beasts to meet him before he can hear the news of Enjo, and have a bit of talk, and after that all he'd be good for is feeding ants and flies."

Silverbrush thought for a moment that Rugger must have frowned as Windflight giggled, amused by her own words, and frowned even more as she moved close enough for their fur to touch, but with that horribly disfigured muzzle of his it was hard to tell. Rugger's tone also had a hint of irritation in it. "Bad timing, Windflight. You don't know where his party is. Sorcerer's promise may be empty. Prey king's army may be coming. If they catch us beneath the castle walls, do you expect me to kill them all by myself?"

Windflight shook her head. "Even if half of what northlanders told about their prowess was lies, preybeasts won't be hurrying into the next battle before licking their wounds. If they do, six hundreds beasts should be enough to take some foes off your back. Methinks, having most of the corsairs turn on us would be a bigger problem. But if you think we're short on time, I'll go and gather a hunting band right away."

"The sooner you go, the sooner you return."

Silverbrush thought that Rugger sounded angry, but Windflight smiled, as she walked away quickly, almost running.

Rugger and Silverbrush returned to the camp at a more relaxed pace. Silverbrush would have preferred to return alone, but... She could see hidden tension in his posture, in small twitches of his paws and ears. Well, Silverbrush was quite tense herself, for a couple of different reasons, but she was not in the habit of killing beasts upon snapping. Unlike Rugger the Black. Enduring his company and his gaze, which was turned to Silverbrush far too often for her liking seemed safer than trying to excuse herself.

"My muzzle wound troubles me as of late," said Rugger as they saw the camp ahead. "The sorcerer is busy, and I trust him less and less. You're a healer, so come to my tent, take a look at it. Later tonight."

If there was one ugly thing about Rugger the Black that Silverbrush did not mind, it was his face. Horrible injuries and festering wounds stopped provoking any sort of strong reaction from her long ago. And not like she had a choice anyway. "As you wish."

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Ezri was not so naïve as to expect that she could sleep safely – insofar as she could sleep at all recently – in the same room as a disgruntled underling. Thankfully, this great stone wooldander house had too many rooms for its current inhabitants. So she simply relocated herself to the room near the one that housed the rest of her black rats, tiny and stuffy, but a good deal safer, as she could simply barricade the door. Safer from knives, not from sorcery reaching from mind to mind, of course. But a beast cannot live in terror of a threat she could do nothing about, without either getting insane, or getting inured to it in a few days. So now she could sleep, albeit fitfully, waking up from mundane nightmares almost every night. Maybe it was such a nightmare that made her jump awake this time. Or maybe not.

Either way, she found herself unable to fall asleep again. Breathing some fresh night airs started seeming like a better idea than tossing and turning on her small, uncomfortable, sweat-soaked bed.

Outside of her windowless room it was, of course, almost as dark, with just a little light of moon and stars coming through narrow windows of the corridor. But Ezri lived nearly all of her life in the abyss that the sun did not reach, and was used to navigating by the faintest of illuminations. She noticed instantly, that the door to the room where the other rats were staying was wide open. That seemed a bit suspicious. But what she saw upon looking inside turned a slight bad feeling into gut-wrenching terror. The room was empty, all eleven of the rats gone.

Ezri was a clever old rat, and used to assuming the worst. In seconds she considered and discarded several possibilities. The rats could not be trying to steal something within the castle, any theft requiring all eleven of them would be noticed immediately. They could not be trying to escape the siege, in the midst of the woodlander country and with the army outside having no reason to treat them as anything but slaves. Unless… unless they were promised otherwise. Or were too terrified to think about their prospects clearly.

Ezri felt the urge to punch herself or scream. She thought only about herself, and never considered that despite the miracle which saved her, the sorcerer may try again, with another rat. Or was it just mundane treachery? No matter. It took Ezri just a few more seconds to sniff around the room. It seemed to her that the beds still kept some warmth. The crew just left. To where? The main gates were guarded by well-armed woodlanders at all times. The underground tunnel used for the recent raid was now collapsed, filled with earth and rocks to prevent the besieging army from using it. But Ezri knew there was a small door in one of the towers near the gate, meant for sallies during siege battles, thick and sturdy, positioned parallel to the wall, where the attackers would not well be able to bring a ram against it – but allowing enemies to sneak their way into the castle, if opened from inside.

She ran like madbeast. She caught up to the rest of the rats in one of long stone halls, empty now, with tables and benches lining the walls. There were more and larger windows here, and she saw them clearly. And they saw her. Moving slowly and cautiously, they heard the patter of her paws against the stone even before she rushed into the hall.

"What do you think you're doing, you nitwits?!" The rats still were Ezri's tribe, her family – literally, for most of them – so her voice was not above an angry hiss.

Razkhan stepped forth towards her. "Ain't that obvious, you bigbrain? We're turning coats. A new Ruler of the Abyss has come. Woodlanders are losing. They hate us anyway, and sandmice moreso."

"They never did a thing to us! They gave us shelter! They can win yet! Don't dig for excuses, just say you want to go back to bloody slavery!"

Razkhan shrugged, sighed, and made another step forward. "Fate is fate, Ezri. Ours is serving the Ruler, the magic beast. Look, we ran to this land of trees from it, and it still caught us by the scruff. So, shut your trap and follow. Or would you betray us, your blood, for the wood-dwellers?"

"You're getting two things wrong, Razkhan…"

But Razkhan was already close enough. He lunged. Ezri only started drawing her knife, when her world crumbled. She must have passed out briefly, for next she found herself lying on her back, with horrible throbbing pain at the side of her head, her body feeling heavy as lead, and Razkhan sitting on her. Her own knife was gone, and Razkhan's placed against her neck.

"That was payback, you old vulture. Now listen up. I don't want to kill you, but I will, if I have to. I really will! So, be a good rat, and come with us. Just promise you'd stick with us, no scuffles, no alarms?"

Ezri was not sure why he didn't just cut her throat, instead of taking such a risk. Sure, he was her nephew, and all, but she never felt close to him. She cursed herself for not paying attention to what each and every one of her black rat thought ever since the old Ruler Zarfayn died. In any case, from her position the offer seemed awfully tempting, but… "If I go with you, I'm carrion anyway. The new Ruler, that Ubel, came for me in my dream, demanded to betray the castle. I refused. He'll kill me for that, nice and slow. So just cut my throat and be done with it!"

Razkhan's surprise was obvious. "He did not say that! I thought I was the first he… approached."

"Well, he lied, big surprise."

"But how you refused? How's that even possible? They said, beasts who woke up after the old Ruler was done with 'em weren't good for anything but screaming and drooling. How you resisted?"

"Old Zarfayn and his apprentice aren't the only ones with magic. I resisted as far as I could, and when I was about to break, I was saved. And you know what the creature who saved me said? He said that there is more to our fate than serving evil!"

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Maybe Weitla wouldn't have been able to muster her courage, if only she wasn't left alone in the tent which so recently belonged to Enjo. Silverbrush went away, as usual commanding her to stay in the tent, and even as evening deepened into night she did not return. The encampment around the tent emptied after dark, as corsairs gathered to participate in what seemed to be another attempt to launch a sneak attack on the castle, only a few were left to maintain campfires, as if the whole crowd was still in place, and those few were dozing off. Weitla decided it was now or never.

Enjo's weapons mostly still were in their usual places. Out of his numerous knives and daggers Weitla picked three smaller ones, easier to use for beasts of her size. She gathered whatever food was left in the tent, a flask of water, and whatever other necessities were at paw, like flint and tinder. She slipped out of the tent, and moved away like a quiet shadow.

Or so she thought. Weitla heard only her own madly beating heart, and smelled only her own fear, so she nearly fainted from sudden shock, when paws far stronger than hers grabbed her by shoulder and throat.

"And where you think you're going?" Silverbrush hissed straight into her face. Weitla usually did not fear the vixen. Silverbrush was never cruel, violent, or dangerously drunk. But this time she looked mad, and frightening. Her fur was ruffled, there was blood on her cheek and neck – her own blood, it seemed, her clothes were in disorder, her paws squeezed cruelly. All in all, she looked and sounded like she just took a harsh beating and was eager to give the same to the first weaker beast unfortunate enough to cross her way. That gave Weitla a desperate idea. She could not kill Silverbrush, and surely not without raising a ruckus. Even if she really wanted to. So, instead of fighting, she told the truth.

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Seien was awake this night. Well, as was most of the camp. The white sorcerer swore to Ulakhai that he could make traitors within the castle open a side door for the besieging army. Ulakhai himself, with his paw-picked beasts, how was crawling up the slope, to reach that door unnoticed. Most of the rest of the army waited, clothed and armed, but trying to avoid suspicious movements for now. Ulakhai noted and Seien could not disagree, that even if the door is going to be open, and the first warriors coming through it will be good enough to prevent the defenders from closing it back, the whole army cannot walk to the walls, past the ditch, and squeeze itself through such a small entrance unnoticed, and doing so under a hail of stones and javelins would result in a bloodbath. So he wanted to get in with a small band of his best killers and open the main gate, for the rest of the soldiers to pour through.

Seien had no place in the whole plan. Ulakhai did not want to risk him in battle, so he said. Or he did not want Seien to get a share of glory, as Seien thought. Either way, the young pine marten was restless, bored, and angry. Officers watching for the gates to open barely paid attention to him and did not notice when he wandered away.

"I'm their good luck charm, not their King," he thought. "Yet."

The desire to do something, anything at all, was overwhelming. The moon was far from full, and Seien's night vision was not very good, so he picked a torch as he went. He just had an idea. He heard much about Ewalt, ever since he was just a little cub. Back then the stories about the mouse who refused to die scared Seien quite a bit. Why not to take a closer look at this supposed Ghost, while he had nothing to do? Why not to see for himself that Ewalt was just a lucky rebel, who could be caught and be held by ropes, even amidst the dark night of coming betrayal and bloodshed, when the dead should be more dangerous than ever?

Ewalt, or whomever this mouse was, really did not look that fearsome, at least when sitting with his back against a long wooden post, his paws tied behind it. To Seien he looked underfed, and, like all mice, pretty small. For a second the pine marten thought that he is sleeping or unconscious, but then Ewalt opened his eyes and looked at him. He seemed exhausted too, and his glare did not scare Seien. The young king stepped forward, holding the torch forward, to take a closer look. "Well. Not sure how a mouse so small managed to scare so many beasts. You're certainly not scaring me."

The mouse bared his teeth, trying to be impudent in that irritating fashion of prey creatures not knowing their place. But even his voice was tired. "Had your betters not bound me, you snot-nosed whelp, you'd talk differently."

Seien grinned and leaned closer, taking care to stay just where the mouse could not reach to bite him, thanks to ropes. "What was that? Are you trying to make me mad, so I'd kill you on the spot?"

"No."

Seien literally did not know what hit him. Later he realized that Ewalt must have headbutted him on the chin. The next thing he felt and saw was something hard and sharp, his own dagger, as he soon found, pressing against his throat, a beast sitting on his chest, and a snarling face right before his eyes. Seien's blood froze. Then he heard a loud hiss:

"Don't kill him!"

Ewalt did not say anything, but neither did he slit Seien's throat.

"He's the young king, I think! We can use him to get away from the camp." That must have been the beast tied next to Ewalt talking, the young ermine whose name Seien did not know.

"Winter's teeth!"

Seien could not see the new arrival on the scene, but he thought he recognized the voice, despite the continued ringing in his years. Lurthen Longneck, the warlord of snowlanders?

"One step closer, ermine, and I'd slit his throat!" Ewalt growled. Seien shuddered, feeling pressure against his neck increase.

"Really, mouse? You think that'd stop me?"

"You think I won't do it?"

"Go ahead, slit his throat, save Ulakhai the hassle. And then, by night and winter, I will avenge our dear king and cut you to pieces nice and slow, with my own paws, for what you did to me. What you're waiting for, little mouse? Do it!"

Seien froze in fear. The seeming help was no help at all. And he was too dizzy and frightened to knock the smaller beast off himself. Then he heard an audible thump and then sound of a body falling to the ground.

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Ulakhai did not believe much in Ubel's sorcery. But there was no harm in at least trying to take the castle with the help of traitors Ubel promised to provide. Why, with Windflight and her best crewmates absent from the camp and Rugger seemingly being even more skeptical and staying in his tent, he could take it all for himself. Ulakhai himself and beasts he trusted most still remained in the rear, with a couple dozens of archers he thought he could array at the bottom of the shallow slope without making the fact that the vermin army is not asleep too obvious. Wisdom of that decision became apparent when yells and warcries once again broke the silence of night. Ulakhai strained his eyes, trying to see what was going on in the dark. Vermin who just a minute ago clustered in the narrow space between the wall and the moat, ready to enter the secret door in response from a lantern signal from above, now were trying to escape however they could, as spears and stones flew at them from the top of the wall. Supposed traitors inside the walls turned out to be treacherous.

"Aim at the walltop! Volley!" Ulakhai shouted, even knowing that at this distance and angle bows would be largely useless. But he had to appear to be doing something in this moment of failure. Arrows whistled, beasts ran, and screamed, and died. It all ended quickly. Within minutes Ulakhai was already counting losses suffered by the pitifully looking water-soaked victims of the rout, among torches lit once everybeast was safely out of range. At least the price was low this time, only half a dozen of beasts missing and a few with nasty-looking wounds. Ulakhai already started thinking on turning events of the night to his advantage, when someone called him, and the sound of fear in that beast's voice instantly made Ulakhai's fur rise again. "Captain! Captain!"

When Ulakhai saw where that beast was pointing, even with his long experience in weathering misfortune he almost did something uncorrectable. His arrow was already on the bowstring, when the bloody traitor shouted: "One wrong move and your King dies!"

Ulakhai clenched his jaws almost hard enough to crack a tooth, as he lowered his bow. It took all of his composure to consider the picture clearly. Seien was right before him, in an empty space left as vermin soldiers backed away, with paws bound behind his back and a dagger at his throat, and the thrice-cursed ermine that snowlanders hauled into the camp with Ewalt the Ghost was holding the dagger. Ewalt himself was there too, of course, a blade in his paw pointing at any vermin who was too close, and the female mouse Ulakhai sometimes saw in the camp, Enjo's wench. And next to them was Enjo's vixen, Silverbrush.

"What do you want to accomplish with this treachery?"

"We want from you a couple of burning torches, and free passage to the castle. When we're about to get inside, we'd let Seien go."

"Then you'd have nothing to stop you from just killing him!"

Ewalt answered this time. "My word is worth something, unlike yours. And I swear that we'd let your pet go."

Ulakhai stared at them for a long minute. The ermine was practically shaking, but he pressed the dagger against Seien's throat firmly enough. Both females were watching his back. The vixen was disheveled, bristling and growling and Ulakhai had not idea what pushed her towards this madness. No soldier even tried to make a move, all waited for their commander. Seien looked at Ulakhai pleadingly, trying to catch his gaze. Finally Ulakhai spoke. "This was a mistake, vixen."

He shook his head before turning to the soldiers. "You, yes you two! Give 'em torches. The rest of you, make way!"

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The same side door that was nearly used to invade the castle now opened, allowing Ewalt and company to get in. While beasts inside were not about to take the risk of opening the main gate, they lowered the drawbridge, allowing the small group to cross the moat and get to the door without swimming. There was no sight or sound of vermin pursuit. Smalltooth, still holding Seien at daggerpoint, paused before the door. "Should we let him go? Really?"

Ewalt looked at him grimly. "Stop tempting me."

"But…"

"Just let him go!"

Smalltooth snarled in frustration and pushed Seien away. The young pine marten swayed, trying to regain his balance and avoid falling into the moat. Ewalt looked at him. "Run away while you can, spawn of Kunas. Soon we will meet for one final time."

"And then you'd meet worms!" Seien, whose fear was quickly replaced with rage, spat at Ewalt's direction. But the mouse already turned his back on the pine marten and got through the door.

Incredible weariness befell Ewalt as soon as he made the first step inside the castle. The pain in his left wrist which he dislocated when freeing himself from the ropes was the worst of all, but pretty much his entire body ached. He did not have anywhere near enough food or sleep over the last few days. And the thought that he just spared Kunas' son made his stomach twist into knots. The pine marten King killed his entire family by breaking a promise, it would only have been fair to extinguish Kunas' line in the same way! Ewalt just wanted to find some quiet place to drop down and black out. Except maybe he wanted something to eat first, and then drink enough to certainly forget about everything. But things that he wanted had a bad habit of not aligning with things he had to do.

"So, why you helped us, again?" Ewalt asked the vixen loudly as soon as they were in the courtyard, where enough of the beasts meeting them could hear. Quite a few of them were whispering and looking at her with obvious suspicion already.

Ewalt heard that Silverbrush, as she called herself, growled quietly as she turning towards him. But she answered calmly. "My old master was murdered. I was left alone, with no defense. Beasts who murdered him had less regard for me than for dust beneath their paws. Just tonight one of them nearly decided to rip my face off for fun." The vixen touched her cheek and Ewalt looked at bloodied fur, hiding what seemed a pretty long cut, a detail to which he paid no attention before. "The mouse here offered me to free you, so that you would be my ticket to the other side. I agreed."

"Foxes are crafty beasts, and the enemy's tricks are endless, as we saw tonight," spoke some aging squirrel with a cane.

"No." Ewalt leaned against the stone wall, in case his footpaws decide to betray him at the most inappropriate moments. "I'm not a beast who can see through others that well, but I can swear she's not lying. Some of these vermin would sooner gnaw off their own tails than let me go for the sake of getting a single vixen inside here. There is enough blood between us to fill rivers."

"What about this stoat then? I swear, if not for the female mouse with you, I'd have commanded to keep the door closed."

Ewalt stifled a groan. "He's my friend, and anybeast who tries to touch him will have to deal with me too. I'm Ewalt, called the Ghost, and I do not make empty promises!"

"Ewalt the Ghost?" The old squirrel took a torch from one of the beasts next to him and stepped closer. "I've heard this name of the vermin's great enemy when I was their prisoner. And you do look like a veteran warrior, who will bends to no threat or trick. If you pledge your word for those two, I guess we can trust them. Well. And who are you, Miss?"

Ewalt looked at the mouse, whom the old squirrel just addressed, paying real attention to her for the first time, though, as his mind now registered, she must have been staring at him for the last half a minute. She was tall for her species, though shorter than him, and looked rather hale and pretty for a slave. There was something strange about her, and Ewalt could not exactly tell what, maybe because even he could not see perfectly in the shadow of the castle wall, illuminated by two or three flickering torches. She started turning away from him, lowering her eyes, as if scared, and in that moment a flash of recognition shot through Ewalt's mind. Forgetting his weariness, he stepped forward, caught the female by the shoulder, and looked at her face.

"By all the seasons! Is that you, Weitla?"

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Ulakhai accompanied Seien all the way to the King's tent.

"I'm really…" Seien failed to even properly start his apology. As soon as the tent flap closed, Ulakhai stepped next to him and grabbed him by the neck, claws digging into the skin.

"You what, sorry?" Seien had never heard the big mustelid sounding this mad before, even though volume of his voice was barely above a whisper. "You little, flea-brained, idle-pawed, stupid, pampered whelp! You let Ewalt escape! Ewalt the thrice-cursed Ghost! You nearly got yourself killed!"

Seien clawed at Ulakhai's wrists in panic, unable to speak, his eyes bulging. For a moment he seriously thought that he was going to die. What was his useless mother doing? There was no light in the tent, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her dark figure.

"Please, stop!" Marda cry was quiet, barely a whine, but Ulakhai heard it. Or maybe he just decided to let Seien go on his own, shoving the young pine marten to the ground. Both he and Ulakhai breathed heavily. Marda let out a stiffled sob.

Ulakhai turned away from Seien, nearly smacking Seien's face with his tail. Even in the dark Seien could see that his whole body was shaking, surely from rage. "A beast who captured no foes… Argh. We'll talk about this later."

"We shall see," thought Seien, remembering about the small leaf bundle hidden in his belongings, holding the small poison pill he received from Ubel.