Chapter IV
Beneath the great birch in the hollows of the surrounding roots, the wonderful smells of the First autumn feast were enough to make the two shrews that worked in the nursery salivate.
"What I wouldn't give for a slice of mama's famous celery cakes right now," Damaste moaned as he rubbed his belly, trying to calm it down.
"Forget desserts, all I want is a fine beetroot stew with truffles," his brother Corriander remarked as he hushed another irritable babe.
"These pups will never stay still when such fine vittles be cooking," Damaste realized as he heard footsteps approach and looked toward the door to see their younger sibling Rufe appear with a basket of fresh parsley scones and wheat biscuits.
"Our savior has arrived!" Corriander said excitedly, forgetting for a moment his task to keep the nursery calm as the bread was brought to them.
"Steward Dorsbe told me there were two starving dibbuns down here. But if I had known it was you two knuckleheads I might not've come," Rufe commented dryly as Damaste snatched the basket from his paws.
"These morning baths and cleanings are the worst. Malen was right when he said this was an assignment meant for handmaidens," Corriander said as he gobbled down a biscuit.
"My aren't we a tad sexist?" Damaste asked with a laugh as they walked out of the nursery to the next chamber, a small tunnel that connected the burrows to the larger root cellars.
"What? I know father says we should be learning all the traits of a good leader but I don't see how soothing a crying pup to nap and cleaning his fur every morning is going to put us in the running to be Log-a-log," Corriander pointed out. Rufe and how other brother seemed to share the sentiment and even the younger shrew commented, "None of us will have a chance if Esperol has his way."
"Well no use lamenting about it boys, we're probably going to be on nursemaid for the foreseeable future. Might as well just face it!" Corriander chuckled as he finished his last biscuit.
"Speaking of dibbuns needing their tails wiped, Father said he wanted to see you right away Corriander," Rufe told him to which the middle shrew glared at his brother for making such a remark about their father.
Sneaking another bite in as he walked up the burrows to the widening dormitory of the shrew tribe, Corriander looked down across the mighty hall of the Guosssom and tried to imagine how his father handled being leader of so many shrews.
Even now as he rounded another tunnel he could hear constant bickering and fighting amongst both young and old and it gave him a headache. Growing up with six other brothers had never been easy but Corriander was definitely glad they had all started to get some sense after their dibbun days.
Reaching the chambers of the shrew chieftain, the middle shrew wrapped on the door softly and waited for some kind of response, only to find that none had come. In a panic he rushed into the room to see if his father was all right, relieved to see that the older shrew had simply been sleeping.
As he stood at the foot of his fathers bed he reached for an old lantern filler with red moss and lit it to give the chamber a little more light and get a better look at his aging father.
The elderly shrew opened his weak eyes and looked toward his middle child, unable to see him clearly the chieftain asked, "Alfoh? Is that you?"
"It's Corriander Father," he told him as he helped the shrew to sit up and cough gently. "Corriander? What are ye doing here?" Log-a-log asked.
The younger shrew sighed as he walked over to where his father kept his glasses and walking cane, realizing that the elderly shrew's condition was getting worse and worse each day.
Since they had endured a tough winter, Log-a-log had suffered from a constant cough and weakness that Hewitt their healer had attributed to both his age and the sicknesses that had passed thru all Mossflower at that time. And from where he stood now, looking at the frail form of a once mighty warrior Corriander knew that his father didn't have much longer.
But still the chieftain refuses to accept that and delayed any sort of announcement regarding his successor, he thought. Everybeast in the tribe knew Esperol was the obvious choice but his father seemed only to become irritable when talking about his eldest brother.
He passed the cane to the elderly shrew as they walked across to the basin on the other side of the room, Log-a-log took each step carefully as Corriander remarked, "Have you been eating the vittles that Rufe brings you?"
"Bah! That sour stalk soup and beetle barley is meant for dibbuns! I want ye and Malen to go out and catch some good char again!" The chief barked as he washed his face. Corriander didn't bother reminding him that he had only a few teeth left, none of which were sharp.
"What if I got you some of the gooseberry ale you like? That would help wash it down and calm your stomach," Corriander suggested.
"Humph," Log-a-log growled reluctantly as he went over to the night stand where mama had left the food.
He poured some of the ale into a small goblet and passed it to his father before stating, "You have to keep your strength up. There is after all only one of you."
The chieftain tried his best to chew the food, coughing a few times before he finally rested his head on the feathery pillow.
"You are a good boy, Alfoh. I wish your brothers were more like you," his father told him and this time Corriander didn't bother correcting him.
Once he made certain that his father was comfortable he left the room and sighed, feeling the weight of this burden heavy on his soul. Besides us seven brothers the only one even aware of Log-a-log's health was the shrew healers.
And they had taken a solemn oath not to speak a word of his illness to the tribe for fear of panic. Although the whole assembly was nearly five hundred strong, all of them depended on the leadership of their chieftain to keep them from falling into the old bickering ways of other shrew tribes.
We are Guosssom. We should be better than this he thought as he made a mental note to ask Hewitt and Renatte about getting more of the fine spurred mushroom tonic that had helped his father during the long summer.
And to talk to his older brothers of the needs for them to determine who the next Log-a-log would be.
XXXXX
By midday Damaste had managed to finish all of his morning chores and settle down in the great birch hollow to enjoy some of the second catch of fresh chum that Malen and Dorgen had caught up river.
Tearing into the broiled fish, the middle shrew could not help but to realize that he was quite famished from cleaning the cellars, lighting all of the tunnel lanterns, sweeping the dormitory and scrubbing the kitchen.
He only paused from his meal to guzzle down a goblet of hot radish tea. His youngest brother Malen merely watched in astonishment as he remarked, "You must have chosen to fast all summer long the way you are eating brother."
Ignoring his brothers teasing he commented, "This is a fine bounty, Malen. Did you find all of these in the southern branches?"
"Dorgen was with me and we took the twisting branch toward the Great Inland Sea," Malen said as he watched his brother's reaction. "You need not worry. We didn't go anywhere near the mouth of that great water."
"I wish I had your spirit of recklessness Malen. Maybe I wouldn't be stuck in here tending to babes all day," he moaned.
A strong pat on his back startled the shrew as Alfoh joined them alongside his girlfriend and his older brother commented, "Don't you know that the ladies go crazy when a guy can handle themselves around dibbuns?"
The two started to pour themselves some of the nearby bark wine as Malen commented, "Is that your plan once you get married, Alfoh? Have a tribe of shrew babes for yourself?"
"Oh I'm sure we will have a dozen at least, all girls," Ciana said dreamily causing her boyfriend to nearly choke on his drink. "I guess that's something we need to discuss," he said nervously. Damaste shook his head and laughed as he looked toward the sunlight that crept thru the hollow birch, realizing his lunch was almost over and it would be back to chores.
"Maybe you can get a word in toward father about letting me join you at the nets, Malen," he suggested with a weary smile even as they all heard a commotion toward the outer borders of the tribe territory.
"What's all that noise?" Alfoh asked. Malen finished up his bite of artichoke bread and muttered, "The drums of the Guosssom archers. Something must have happened while they were on patrol.." Instantly the brothers jumped up and followed the crowd outside of the birch to see what the alert was about.
Esperol was standing near the small stove dais that they used during outside festivals and looked toward his brothers grimly, causing Damaste and the others to wonder what had happened during their first autumn patrol.
"Guosssom! I bring dreadful news from the Western reaches of our mighty stream. My archers and I encountered a dangerous vermin this morning," Esperol announced causing muttered of shock to ripple thru the crowd.
Malen tugged at his older brother's tunic and whispered, "Shouldn't we have brought this to the attention of father first?"
"The vermin managed to escape, and he will likely be returning to others who will now be aware of our territory," Esperol explained calmly as he said in a stern voice, "There was no time to debate about it."
Turning back to the assembly their eldest brother added, "We're going to start training more warriors over the next few days. My brother Dorgen will be in charge of sword combat and Rufe will handle defensive techniques. And no children should be allowed to leave the tribe borders. Not until we are certain that the threat has passed."
Damaste approached his brother, frightened but also eager to help he asked, "How can I help Esperol?"
The other shrew glanced at him and then toward Alfoh before deciding, "You two can switch assignments for a while. Maybe Alfoh will learn some sense once he has washed and cleaned a few dozen shrew babes."
The group of shrews quickly went about their assignments as the day stretched on, each of them trying to ignore the worry and the danger that might lurk just beyond their borders.
