THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Forty-One
Urthblood paced back and forth along the high bank, his eyes glued to the soft ground, straining in the failing light to make sense of the mad confusion of tracks that his downriver scouts had discovered.
"Perhaps we should light some torches," Winokur suggested.
"We'll have to," Saybrook agreed, "if Lord Urthblood doesn't find what he's looking for soon."
The otter captain had kept his team back from the area that was the most heavily-tracked, once he realized the significance of what they'd found. Now Log-a-Log and the two Redwallers stood with Saybrook's search party, looking on while Utrthblood made his inspection.
The badger suddenly looked up, redirecting his gaze out toward the swiftly-running waters. The stream was narrower here, and gave the impression of considerable depth. Urthblood scanned the water intently, focusing upon the various rocks and branches that broke the surface here and there, mostly along the shores. But there was one piece of debris - what appeared to be a stout, flat-topped tree stump floating out near the center of the river - that caught his attention and held it.
He turned away from the broadstream to study the other item of interest that Saybrook had found: a crude assembly of branches, lashed together with vines to form a sort of makeshift walkway. Saybrook had told them that when he first encountered it lying slightly farther down along the banks, he assumed it was part of a bridge of some kind. There were even some marks in the mud, along with all the pawprints, which suggested that it had been set up there as a crossing over the waters. The only problem was, the span was less than half as long as the river was wide. If it had been part of a bridge, where was the rest of it?
Urthblood stared at the ruts in the ground where the gangplank had presumably been laid, then lined them up with the stump he'd spotted out in midriver. Nodding to himself, he called out, "Captain Saybrook, dispatch your fastest runner back to the main camp. I want two cannisters of the Flitchaye gas brought here, and quickly."
"Yes, Lord!" Saybrook issued the order to the fastest weasel present. The runner ducked his head in acknowledgement, took a deep breath, and sprinted off into the twilight.
Log-a-Log came forward, mindful not to tread on any of the slaver's tracks. "Flitchaye gas?"
"A part of my arsenal. Developed from, and named for, a tribe of particularly nasty vermin who had a somewhat unusual method of ensnaring hapless travelers. I brought it down with me from the north, and I deem it might be called for now."
"Why? What have you found?" the shrew asked anxiously.
Urthblood pointed at the ground. "There are the pawprints of many different beasts here. Foxes, to be sure, but other large prints as well, which are clearly those of rats. And smaller ones, which could very well have been made by your fellow shrews. I believe this may be the point where the slaver foxes passed their captives on to the slave keepers for whom they were working."
"But, there's nothing here," Log-a-Log said, confused and impatient. "Didn't somebeast say the tracks led away north again? Shouldn't we be following them, instead of loitering 'round here?"
"Those northward tracks were the first thing I examined, friend shrew. They are of foxes only, whereas the tracks leading to this spot include foxes and smaller beasts. The slavers did indeed head north. But their slaves were no longer with them. Therefore, it would be pointless to pursue them."
"No worse than dallying here!" Log-a-Log protested. "At least if we caught up to 'em, we could force 'em to tell us what they did with my son an' the others. We ain't gonna find out nothing here, 'cos everybeast else is gone!"
"Perhaps you are right," Urthblood conceded. "If that proves to be the case, then we will follow the northward tracks at first light tomorrow. But first, there is more here that bears examination ... perhaps much more."
"Like what?"
Now Urthblood pointed out at the treestump offshore. "Tell me, have you ever seen a floating stump that stays in one place, even in such rapid waters as these?"
Log-a-Log stared at it. "Must be caught on sumpthin'. Or maybe it's a long log stuck into th' riverbottom, an' we're only seein' the tip of it."
"Perhaps. But notice the flow of the current. It seems somewhat different right here than elsewhere in the river ... almost as if it becomes very shallow out around the stump."
"So? Maybe it does. That means it could be caught on something after all, if the bottom's so near th' surface."
"If so, remarkable how perfectly level it is. But look more closely. It does seem to have some very slight bob and sway to it. I had to study it myself for many long moments before I noticed it."
"So what?" Log-a-Log exploded. "I'm not interested in any blinkin' stump!"
"But I am." Urthblood turned to Saybrook. "Captain, how good would your visibility underwater be in this light?"
"Uh, depends on wot I'm lookin' for, M'Lord. Shrimp would prob'ly get by me, but I could still make out bigger fish. What'd you have in mind?"
"Big fish." The badger warrior stepped to the edge of the bank. "Warnokur, would you please join Captain Saybrook? I think there should be two of you down there. I want you to take an exploratory swim out around that stump ... see if you can tell whether it's attached to anything, and if so, what, and in what fashion ... "
"We're on it, M'Lord!" Saybrook saluted, and made to dive right in from alongside Urthblood. The badger, moving quickly, grabbed Saybrook by the tail and pulled him back.
"Not here. Down there, about twenty paces."
"Uh, sir?" Saybrook looked to Urthblood in puzzlement.
"I don't want you hit your head."
"Um, it seems pretty deep here, sir ... "
"Looks can be deceptive. It's your skull, but I would strongly advise you to be safe rather than sorry."
"Uh ... very well. Come along, Warny mate. Don't wanna be a landlubber, do ya?"
"After you, Cap'n."
The two otters took a running start upstream along the bank, sprang off the ground almost as one and smoothly knifed into the water. In the twilight they were totally lost to view beneath the dark surface; there was no way for the others on the bank to follow their progess.
Log-a-Log looked back to Urthblood. "Lord, what in tarnation's goin' on here?"
"Investigating a suspicion I have. It may be rather farfetched, but we should know in a few moments whether there is anything to it."
"And meanwhile, my son could be travelin' farther away from us with every moment we waste here!"
Urthblood levelled a cool gaze at the argumentative shrew. "And by the same token we could, in our haste, blunder right past the very thing we seek, and miss our only chance for success in this quest."
Log-a-Log opened his mouth to press his argument, but at that moment Warnokur and Saybrook erupted from the water, thrashing and sputtering as if they'd forgotten how to swim. Winokur rushed to his father's side, helping Warnokur back up onto dry land, while several of the Northlanders did the same for their otter captain.
"My word, Warny," Log-a-Log exclaimed, coming over to pound his old friend on the back to help Warnokur catch his breath, "you look as close to drowned as any otter I ever see'd! What did you see down there?"
"A ship!" Warnokur gasped, turning to Urthblood. "By lake an' stream, M'Lord, there's an honest-to-goodness ship down there!"
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The others stared at the two otters in disbelief. Only Urthblood did not seem wholly surprised by this revelation.
"Describe it," he ordered.
"Like a big iron fish, it is," Saybrook declared. "Even got a couple small portholes up front, like a pair o' glowin' eyes."
"Glowing?" Urthblood asked.
"Aye," Saybrook nodded. "Them beasties inside must've had some lamps lit, 'cos it were brighter through the windows than in the water."
"Did you get a good look inside the vessel?"
"Uh, Warny here got a better peek than me, M'Lord. I was on me way back topside before I even realized what it was I was lookin' at. Sorry, sir, but I really weren't expectin' anything like that!"
Urthblood turned to Warnokur. "Could you get a clear view inside?"
"Not more'n a glimpse, M'Lord. But seemed like quite a crowd. An' I could swear they ain't all rats."
The badger warrior silently digested this information. "So it is true," he said at length. "I had heard for some time that Tratton was toying with the idea of an armored boat that could run under the water. But I did not imagine he actually would have succeeded in building such a craft. I see now that I have underestimated him."
He turned to Log-a-Log. "We have found our searats. And, unless I am very much mistaken, we have also found your son and the other stolen creatures."
The shrew was ready for action. "Whadda we do? How do we get 'em out?"
"The same way they went in. That treestump is actually a hatch, disguised to look like something inconspicuous. And that short bridge is the gangplank they used to get there from this shore. You'll notice it is just the right length to cover that distance. They would need such a span, since the underwater vessel must stay to the middle of the river, where the water is deep enough to keep it covered."
"What if it's locked?" Log-a-Log asked.
"We'll tackle that problem when we get to it. First, let us get that gangplank in place, so that we can get out there."
"You don't reckon they'll try'n hurt their prisoners if they hear us tryin' t' break in?" Warnokur wondered.
"That is why I sent for the Flitchaye gas," said Urthblood. "It should help prevent unwanted bloodshed. But it would be even more helpful if we could have a clearer picture of what is going on inside that vessel ... how many searats there are, and their position relative to their captives. Warnokur, you would know Log-a-Log's son if you saw him. I would like you to swim back down there to take a longer look through the portholes. Let us know whether we have found the beasts we seek, and what kind of odds we will be facing if these rats decide to make a stand."
"Good thinkin', M'Lord! But, if I may suggest, my son Wink knows Li'l Pirkko better'n I do. Mayhaps he could come along? There's two portholes down there, so we could each take one ... "
Urthblood looked to the younger otter. "Do you agree?"
But Winokur was already stripping out of his habit, folding it and laying it neatly atop a grass tuft. "Yes, that's true. And it's about time I start pulling my weight on this march, so ... " He motioned for his father to go on ahead of him. "Lead the way, Dad - you know what's down there. I'll be right behind you."
"That's me boy!" Warnokur beamed, and sprang for the water. Now that he knew the dimensions of the unseen craft, he bounded up the bank several strides and dove into the stream. His son was a mere heartbeat behind.
Winokur found himself swimming through Warnokur's bubbling wake. He stroked his way through the cool evening waters almost by instinct, since it took some moments for his vision to adapt to the gloom. But as it did, he had to stuggle not to gasp in amazement at the sight that took form before him.
The ship was indeed like a giant iron fish, just as Saybrook had described it. The faint light from the twin forward portholes made the craft look uncannily alive, and menacingly aware of their approach. He knew it was just an illusion, but still Winokur had to fight down pangs of apprehension as he followed his father's flipper flick indicating that he should take the starboard window while Warnokur took the one to port.
Topside, meanwhile, Urthblood supervised Saybrook's team in wrestling the gangplank into position. The task turned out to be easier than they'd thought, since the reed-and-branch span was light enough to be lifted from one end while it was extended out over the water. When it was nearly touching the hatchway stump, Saybrook let the bridge fall. The landward end dug into the soft ground and held fast. The opposite end, which seemed at first to have come up short, caught on the roof of the vessel, just beneath the surface. Saybrook pranced out onto the middle of the span, testing it with his weight and then a few cautious jumps.
"Seems sturdy enuff, M'Lord," he called back to Urthblood. "Can't say whether I'd trust it to support you, tho'. What now?"
"We wait for the Flitchaye gas to arrive," the badger announced. "And for Winokur and Warnokur to resurface. I shall be very eager to hear their report."
"You 'n' me both," Log-a-Log said.
The two Redwall otters resurfaced moments later, springing up onto the bank and jogging over to where Urthblood stood. While Winokur shook himself dry and retrieved his habit, Warnokur said, "Sorry, M'Lord, but I'm afraid we may've bolloxed things up. I think those rats might have seen us."
"They should not have been able to," Urthblood said, "if it's darker in the water than it is inside their ship."
"Yes, but we had to get our snouts right up to the glass to make out anything on the other side. Think we gave 'em a proper start, sure 'nuff!"
"Then we must go ahead now!" Log-a-Log urged. "If they know we're here - "
Urthblood silenced him with an upheld paw. "This may not be a problem. They would naturally expect to encounter some otters along a river such as this. Just because they saw ours - if they even did - that would not lead them to suspect they were part of a larger force, or that we are preparing to board them. They will probably assume that Winokur and Warnokur were just curious local beasts."
"I hope you're right." Winokur turned to Log-a-Log. "The good news is that Pirkko definitely is down there. I got a clear look at him before we had to make our getaway."
Log-a-Log clutched at his breast. "My son!"
"How many others were there?" Urthblood asked.
"Oh, I'd say a good score o' captives, with maybe a dozen or so rats besides," answered Warnokur. "There must be more room in that thing than you'd guess lookin' at it from the outside."
"Surprised they were able to navigate it this far upstream," commented Saybrook. "This river must run deep all the way between here 'n' th' sea. Quite a ... hold on, that wasn't there before ... "
Urthblood and the others followed the otter captain's gaze. Out on the river, just upstream of the treestump/hatch, a second object had appeared. Shaped like a thick branch bent crooked at its end, it was slowly turning about in the water, almost like a living creature searching for something. When after several moments the crooked end finally turned their way, it froze, aimed at them like a weapon. The bright silver of the evening sky glinted off the wide lens now revealed to them.
"By my eye!" Saybrook exclaimed. "A glass eye!"
"Up on a pole!" Log-a-Log added.
Saybrook asked his badger master, "M'Lord, there's no chance they could see us through that thing, is there?"
"I would guess that that is precisely its purpose," Urthblood replied, "and there can be no doubt that they now know we're here." He drew his sword and thrust it hilt-first at Saybrook. "Captain, get out to that hatch and see if you can get it open, before they secure it so tight that we won't be able to budge it. Use my sword as a prybar if you must, but get it open!"
"Aye aye!" Saybrook snatched the heavy weapon and pounced across the gangplank to the pirate vessel's hatch, where he immediately set to work.
An approaching bustle of activity from along the upstream bank announced the arrival of more of Urthblood's soldiers from the main camp. Mattoon's search party, returned from their own scouting expedition upriver, led the group, along with Captain Abellon and a few of his mice. A number of the Guosim tagged along, with Lorr the tinker bankvole in their company, curious to see what matter was commanding the attention of their Log-a-Log. Two of Mattoon's fellow weasels each bore a large clay cannister shaped like an hourglass, with a steel cap over each wide end.
"Good," Urthblood nodded at the cannister bearers, "and not a moment too soon. Stand ready with those. We will probably have need of them momentarily."
"What news, My Lord?" Abellon inquired.
"We have found our searats, and their captives. All that remains now is to smoke them out, in a manner of speaking ... if we can."
A few of the newcomers looked on in utter bewilderment as Saybrook stood out in the middle of the swift-running river, to all appearances standing solidly upon the very water, hacking and stabbing at a treestump with Lord Urthblood's sword.
"Uh, what's goin' on here, M'Lord?" Mattoon asked, befuddled.
"You will see presently."
Suddenly Saybrook straightened, and seemed to lift up a lid from out of the riverborn stump. To everybeast's amazement, a rat's claw wielding a curved blade reached up out of the opening, slashing at the otter captain. Saybrook dodged and dispatched the claw's owner with a clean stab down into the fake stump. A scream was heard. Saybrook shifted his weight to keep the hatch held open, motioning frantically to his companions on shore.
"Could use a little help out here, an' double quick!" he yelled. "Got a hive o' angry searats out here, an' they won't stay down fer long!"
Urthblood ordered the two weasels with the clay containers, "Out there quickly, both of you, and throw those cannisters down the hatch. Throw them hard to make sure they shatter properly."
The urgency of the command would brook no questions. Instantly, the weasel pair ran onto the gangplank and out to join Saybrook. Once they got there and could actually peer down into the searat craft, their purpose became much clearer. First one then the other hurled their cannisters down the opening, then raced along the gangway back to the shore.
White vapors began to billow out of the stump/hatch. Saybrook slammed the heavy lid down and rejoined the others.
"Good job, Captain," Urthblood commended the otter.
Saybrook returned the sword to Urthblood. "Luck was with us, M'Lord. That hatch wasn't designed to dog watertight. That big iron fish must be meant to run right below the surface, with the hatch always stickin' up like it is now. Must get pretty damp down there in rough seas."
"Searats are accustomed to getting their footpaws wet." Urthblood gazed out toward the vessel; thin wisps of the white mist were escaping from around the rim of the hatch. "But Tratton would not trust this craft to any but a paw-picked crew of his very best and loyal sailors, probably commanded by one of his most competent captains. With luck, we will be able to take them alive. There should be much that they can tell us."
Log-a-Log edged closer to the badger warrior, concern in his voice. "That smoky white stuff, I reckon that's yer so-called Flitchy gas?"
Urthblood nodded. "Those cannisters contain carefully measured quantities of two liquid extracts which, when mixed, boil into a gas that will render most beasts senseless. The two fluids are kept apart in separate chambers, but mingle when the clay vessels are smashed open."
Lorr the bankvole was intrigued by such a potion. "You don't say, you don't say? Very clever, most ingenious. You must let me have the formula for that, My Lord."
"You seem eager for all of my formulae, friend. Do you anticipate having a need for such a substance?"
"Well, one never knows, it's an uncertain world, isn't it? But my purposes would be more for empirical experimentation, tinkering around with it as it were, I am a tinker by trade don't you know ... "
Log-a-Log broke into the bankvole's dissertation. "This gas-mist o' yers, it ain't dangerous, is it?"
"Only to the very young and the very old, but it is unlikely that our fox slavers would have taken infants or the elderly, since they would hardy make desirable slaves."
"So, it won't hurt my son none?"
"If he was young and healthy, he should awake with nothing worse than a headache."
"I'll hold you to that, Lord. How long you figger afore it takes full effect?"
"The gas works quickly. In a small, enclosed space like that, it should already have done its work. You'll notice none of the searats have tried to climb out since Captain Saybrook rejoined us, even though the way is clear for them to escape."
"Well, then," said Log-a-Log, "let's go get them!"
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The hatch was too narrow for Urthblood to fit through, so he had to wait on the riverbank while Saybrook led a boarding party to investigate the vessel and its passengers. Log-a-Log naturally insisted upon being one of the first into the pirate craft, since his son was there. Urthblood agreed to let Winokur and Warnokur join the boarding team as well, since the two Redwall otters could help Saybrook deal with any searats who might not be completely unconscious. But Lorr, who desperately wanted to inspect the underwater ship up close, and the rest of the Guosim were made to stay ashore with Urthblood. It would be cramped inside the rat vessel, so the party would have to be kept small, and preferably be made up of smaller beasts as much as possible. With this in mind, Urthblood chose Abellon and two of his mice to accompany Log-a-Log and the three otters.
All of the boarders wore damp kerchiefs over their snouts to guard against the residue of the Flitchaye gas that was sure to be lingering within. Saybrook went down first. Even for the streamlined otter, it was a tight squeeze through the hatch. The opening could never have accommodated a beast of Urthblood's massive girth.
There was enough room on the barely-submerged deck of the craft for the others to wait until Saybrook gave the all-clear. The water only came up to the otters' ankles and the others' shins, but Winokur and Warnokur linked paws with Log-a-Log and the mice to make sure their smaller companions didn't lose their footing and slide off the curved roof into the swift currents. The pitch and sway of the vessel under them was slight, but none wished to chance getting thrown into the fast river with the night almost upon them.
On the shore, Lorr was still protesting the unfairness of his exclusion. "I simply must be allowed out there, Lord, I must, I must! A device such this, an iron ship that sails beneath the water's surface, it has never been seen before! There must be instruments and workings on board unlike those of any other sailing vessel. So much to study, so much to learn!"
"There will be time enough for that later, friend Lorr. For now we must make sure that all our enemy has been safely subdued, and that their prisoners are unharmed."
Mattoon said to Urthblood, "M'Lord, Cap'n Halpryn arrived in answer to yer signal fire shortly after you left camp. She's waitin' on yer return. Should I dispatch somebeast to tell her we won't be needin' her?"
"She can wait at the main camp with the others for now. I would prefer that we keep our full strength here, in case we need it."
"Uh, yessir. It's just that, well, y'know, some o' th' troops get a little nervous when yer raptors are around. Never know when they might revert to their old ways an' snatch up one o' the infantry fer a snack ... "
"You know my birds are better trained than that, Captain."
"Uh, yeah, o' course, M'Lord." The weasel captain faded back into the crowd.
Out on the ship, Saybrook poked his head up through the hatch. "C'mon down, matyes, an' join the slumber party, 'cos everybeast down here's slumberin' deep 'n' true!"
"Think we'll need any torches?" Abellon asked.
"Nope. They got some lanterns down 'ere. You can see just fine. Well, mebbe yer eyes might water 'n' sting a bit from that gas, but it's mostly cleared out by now through the open hatch. Wink, Warny, would ya be good deckpaws an' stay up topside t' help th' others down? This ladder might be a touch tricky fer smaller beasties, but between th' three of us, we should be able t' manage it right 'n' proper."
"We're not exactly helpless infants here," Abellon said somewhat indignantly.
But Log-a-Log did the mouse captain one better. "Gerrout o' my way, waterdog!" the shrew chieftain yelled at Saybrook, lunging for the open hatch. "My son's down there!" And with that, Log-a-Log threw himself through the treestump portal, landing right on Saybrook's head.
"Oof! Okay, okay! Down we go, then!"
Winokur and Warnokur grinned at each other, then gestured for the three mice to proceed. "After you, gents," Warnokur said.
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Log-a-Log was too overjoyed by seeing his son again to pay any attention to what was going on with the rest of the boarding party.
The corpse of the rat Saybrook had slain lay at the bottom of the ladder that ran from the hatch to the wood plank floor of the vessel's interior. That creature was truly dead, but the entire floorspace was covered by the still forms of searats and their would-be slaves, knocked out by Urthblood's sleeping gas. There was scarcely room to walk without treading upon somebeast or other.
Warnokur was the last one down. Stepping over the dead rat, he took in his surroundings. "So, this is what an underwater craft looks like. Nice carpeting, tho' it is a bit lumpy."
"Well, those lumps'll be wakin' up soon enuff," said Saybrook, "an' we'd better have figgered out what to do with 'em before then. First things first. Abellon, you 'n' yer mice go help Log-a-Log check on all the prisoners, make sure they're all okay. Me, Warny 'n' Wink'll stand watch over this rabble. Any of 'em start to stir like they're about to awake, an' they'll get an otter fist 'tween the ears."
Starting with Log-a-Log's son Pirkko, the shrew and the three mice went from captive to captive, cutting their bonds and leaning the sleeping forms up against the wall. Thirteen of the rat's prisoners were Guosim shrews, but there were also nine others, mostly mice of various kinds, with a pair of hedgehogs thrown in. All were older children or younger adults, beasts of an age that would provide the searat galleys with many seasons of toil under the whip. Clearly, the rats preferred to enslave creatures who were easier to handle and less likely to cause trouble.
The rescuers worked in the light of two lamps, one fore and one aft, on opposite walls to provide maximum illumination throughout the craft. They were built into the hull, placed high enough so that no rat would accidentally hit its head on the boxy lantern housings. They burned with a steady glow, although together they could still but dimly light the entire ship's interior. No smoke issued from their burning, nor was there any detectable odor of fumes.
The three otters took their time exploring while they watched over the slumbering rats. They momentarily found themselves at the very fore of the compartment, where a rat was slumped over a ship's wheel.
"Hmm. Steering up front. That's something new." Saybrook pushed the unconscious rat to the floor and took his place at the helm. "Guess it would hafta be that way, in a crazy boat like this. See, fellers? From here, the steersrat has a clear view out both front portholes. Gives him a good idea what's ahead, an' even off to th' sides a bit, since they're angled slightly. If he needs a better look, he or a copilot simply steps right up to either window, for an even wider scope of view. Navigatin' this thing must not be that hard, even in a river. Open sea would be child's play."
The two Redwallers were impressed, by both Saybrook's nautical knowledge and the ship itself. "But, how would the steering work?" Warnokur asked. "Don't the rudder still hafta be aft?"
"Probably is." Saybrook glanced down. Since the whole inner hull was curved around like a giant cylinder, the rat builders had installed a secondary floor of wood planking so that the crew would have a level surface underfoot. "I'd bet there's some gadget runnin' under this floor fore to aft, lets 'em control the rudder from up here ... prob'ly some ropes on pulleys, or a system o' jointed steel rods. Actshully, it ain't that different from a standard pirate ship, or any large seagoin' vessel, where the wheel up on the steerin' deck controls the rudder down an' back. This one's just straight back, without havin' to go down none."
"Very impressive. Lessee wot else there is t' see in this thing ... "
They picked their way back towards the others, watchful for any signs that the rats might be starting to revive. Stopping just before the entry ladder, Warnokur reached out for a strange-looking device that hung from the ceiling. "Say, this must be their glass-eye peering gizmo. Let's have a gander ... if I c'n figger out how t' work th' blasted thing." Searching until he found the eyepiece, he closed one eye and put the other up to the lens. "O ho! There's Lorr, an' Cap'n Mattoon, an' Lord Urthblood an' all the rest! Yep, those searats must've got a good look at us. Bet they soiled their tailfur when they saw our little army!"
"Here, lemme, mate ... " Warnokur stepped aside to allow Saybrook a turn at the periscope. The otter captain discovered it could swivel, and spun it slowly all the way around in a circle, scanning the river surface and the opposite bank before returning to the group of his comrades.
"Well, bust me rudder!" he declared, stepping back to give Winokur his turn. "Absolutely amazin'! Steerin' one end of a boat from the other I can fathom, but this here's totally beyond me. Couldn't begin to 'magine how it works."
"I thought it must be something like Lord Urthblood's long glass," Warnokur surmised.
"Yeah, I guess. Well, looks like our friends're nearly finished freein' the prisoners. Let's go see what we need t' do now."
Abellon greeted them with watery eyes. "All these goodbeasts seem fine, just dead to the world," he reported, wiping away tears with his wrist. "Lord Urthblood's sleepy gas sure is effective. It's almost gone from here, but it's still doin' a number on our eyes ... and noses, too," he added, with a sniff through his facemask.
"Yeah," Log-a-Log affirmed, "I'm feelin' it too. Ain't you otters bothered by it none?"
The otters looked at each other quizically. "No," Saybrook replied, "we're all shipshape an' in fine fettle. But then, we're used to swimmin' an' gettin' lotsa floatsam 'n' jetsam in our eyes."
"There's that," Warnokur grinned, "an' also all the hotroot soup we've eaten over the seasons. Takes a lot to make an otter's eyes water!"
"Well, then you fellas can take it from here, 'cos we're close to bein' three blind mice and one blind shrew. Um, it occurs to me, tho' - how're we gonna get these sleepyheads outta here? Unconscious as they are, that's a lot of dead weight to try 'n' wrestle up this ladder an' through a narrow hatchway, even for an otter."
"Reckon we'll just hafta let 'em wake up, an' then climb out themselves," Saybrook said. "Same with th' rats, too ... which means we gotta get 'em properly bound, 'fore they start comin' 'round."
Log-a-Log tossed a length of rope over to the otters. "Here, tie 'em up with th' same bindings they used on their slaves. That'd be poetic justice!"
"Never thought of you shrews as being particularly poetic," Warnokur smiled broadly beneath his kerchief, "but that idea sounds like music to me ears!"