Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

There was a splash in the water as something dived from the bank. A moment later a large water vole’s head popped up, almost directly between the two friends. He shook his fur, bushing out his big hairy face, and smiled, addressing them in a slow rustic voice.

Oi do berleeve we means you wayfarers no ‘arm. Oi be named Arvicola.

Me’n my voles allus been friendly wi’ streamdogs an’ treemouses. Hush ye now, though oi do berleev oi did enjoy lissenin’ to such good braggers as you be.

Triss heaved a sigh of relief and held out her paw. I’m Triss and he’s Shogg. We’re runaway slaves trying to reach the shore. Some very bad rats and an evil white ferret are probably on our trail. That’s why we stuck to the stream, to save leaving tracks.

Other water voles popped up all around the fugitives, each one as big and bushy as Arvicola, who was nodding his head sagely as he digested the squirrelmaid’s information. He plucked a reed and began nibbling on it.

Dearie me an’ lackaday, you creatures be in trouble greatly, no doubtin’

o’ that. We got families an’ babes nestin’ in these ‘ere banks, can’t

‘ave otherbeasts a-botherinem. Do ye follow us now, we’ll be takin’

ye down to the shores. Oi be thinkintis the best solution. Come you now, voles, let’s be helpin’ these two.

Surrounded by water voles, Triss and Shogg continued their journey, with Arvicola pointing the way ahead. Our stream splits an’ joins another up yonder, oi do berleev that will be a-takin’ you to the shorelands.

Kurda was relieved when darkness fell. She beckoned Vorto to her side.

Vot you t’ink ve do now, Captain?

Vorto answered, knowing he would be saving the Princess’s face by suggesting the obvious. They could keep us pinned ‘ere forever, yer

‘ighness. Best thing is to back out an’ slip away. Then we can circle the trees an’ let Riggan find the slaves’ trail. Unless, o’ course, they’re still ‘idin’ in there.

A pinecone whizzed out of the darkened tree fringe, pinging off Kurda’s sabre blade. She began wriggling backward.

Nah, slaves not ‘ide in dere no more. Ve do like you say, yarr!

Shuffling backwards on their bellies, the Ratguards retreated, still pelted by stray pinecones. When they were out of range, Kurda ordered Riggan to scout the area for signs.

Less than an hour later, the slavecatcher returned to make her report.

They left these trees, a bit round the other side, Princess. I found a stream close by. Runners always try to lose yer by takin’ to a stream.

Kurda touched Riggan’s paw with her bladepoint. You are de best. Ve vill go catch dem, yarr?

The tracker led them off, giving the trees a wide berth. We’ll lay’em by the paws, never yew fear, marm!

Vorto held the guards back whilst Riggan inspected the streambank. Kurda watched her closely.

The tracker’s keen eyes missed nothing. She smiled to herself. Aye, just like I figgered, they went downstream, west.

Kurda pointed her sabre. You sure dey not go upstream? I t’ink dey go dat vay, east!

Riggan waded a short way downstream and returned with a broken reed.

She held it up for Kurda to see. Yore a princess, marm, I’m a slavecatcher.

This came from down yonder. It’d be natural for anybeast t’think they’d gone inland, but I knows me slaves. They always try an’ fool ye by goin’

the opposite way.’Tis west, sure enough!

Kurda and Riggan led off downstream. Vorto and the rest followed, marvelling at the tracker’s skills as she confirmed the route by noticing bent reeds, disturbed pebbles and bruised leaves hanging down from streambank trees.

Plugg Firetail had misjudged his landfall by anchoring too far north of Mossflower. Immediately after Tazzin and the runners arrived with news of Slitfang’s discovery, the silver fox had the Seascab under way, rousing the rest of his crew from their night’s sleep. With the recovered craft in tow, he sailed south down the coast. Grubbage spotted the smoke and flame from the Stopdog shortly before dawn. He roused Prince Bladd, who was sleeping out, snuggled in rope coils on the afterdeck.

Ahoy, mate, go’n’ tell the Cap’n we’ll be droppin’ anchor soon. Move yerself, Princeness, Cap’n don’t like t’be keptwaitin’!

Bladd, who had got used to being bullied by Freebooters, staggered upright, scratching his midriff. I go, but den I take another shleep in mine nice soft bed.

Grubbage, whose hearing had not improved, waggled a grubby paw in his ear and nodded. 1 allus said you’ad a nice soft’ead.’Op along now, mate!

Slitfang ran down to the sea and waded in, shouting up to Plugg, who was standing in the bows. This is the place, Cap’n, I found it. An’

I got three prisoners for ye, too!

Two of the crew lowered Plugg down on a rope. On reaching Slitfang, he boxed the weasel’s ears soundly.

Three prisoners, eh? Then why aren’t ye back there guardinem? An’ why did yer let that ketch git burned down? Stumping up to the burned-out campsite, he glared at Sagax, Kroova and Scarum distastefully.

A streamdog, a stripedog, an’ a rabbit, wot good are they t’me? Why didn’t ye destroy them an’ save the ketch, instead o’ savin’ them an’

lettin’ the craft get ruined?

The crew got out of Plugg’s way. It was obvious he was in a bad mood.

Grubbage came up the beach, followed by Prince Bladd and the rest of the Seascab’s crew. A sudden thought struck Grubbage.

Cap’n,’ow’s the Princess an’ those Ratguards goin’ to find us again, now that ye’ve moved the Seascab down the coast?

Plugg sighed. I forgot about that lot.

Bladd giggled. I hope dey are losed forever,’specially mine sister.

I not vant to see her again, dat’s for sure!

Scarum had been listening with interest to the conversation. The talkative hare could not resist taking part. I say, old chap, that’s a bit heartless, wot, not wantin’ to see your sister again. I bet she misses you terribly!

Plugg waggled his axe threateningly under the hare’s nose. Who asked you, rabbit?’Ere, Tazzin, gut these three an’ toss’em in the sea fer fishfood!

Tazzin twirled her knife, smiling eagerly. Aye aye, Cap’ri!

Sagax decided it was time for him to speak up. Only a fool would do that. D’you know who we are?

The young badger tried to look as regal as he could, which was not easy, lying dumped and bound on the sand. I am the son of a great mountain Lord. The hare, Bescarum, is from a very wealthy family. Our otter friend is the son of an emperor of sea otters. If you slay us, think of the ransom you’d miss out on.

Scarum interrupted. He’s right, y’know, old lad. Our families would prob’ly swap a jolly great shipload of treasure t’get us back. No sense in slayin’ us, wot wot?

Plugg sat down on the sand beside Scarum. Haharr,’tis long seasons since I’eld anybeast to ransom. Righty ho, rabbit, we’ll let you’n yore mates live, but you’d better’ope yore rich pappas an’ mammas stump up plenty, or ye’ll be fed to the sharks, one at a time. D’ye unnerstand? Scarum shook his head in mock admiration of the Freebooter. I say, sir, you’re a born genius, what jolly clever thinkin’. I’d shake your paw heartily if I weren’t tied up at the moment!

Slitfang placed a paw on his hip and swaggered about, trying to imitate Scarum’s speech. Ho I say, wot wot, jolly ole rabbit! Don’t’e talk pretty?

Plugg fetched Slitfang a whack that sent him sprawling. That’s’cos’e’s a gentlebeast, not like you, slabnose. That there rabbit’s’ad a h’eddication, more’n wot we’ve ever’ad. My old uncle was a gentlebeast wid a h’eddication. I liked’im. My old uncle could sing wunnderful h’ed-dicated ditties, too!