The Lutra - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 09 - The Pearls Of Lutra

Shielding his eyes, the steersrat peered toward the wall. "Nah! ... Wait! Aye, there 'e is, ole Mad Eyes 'isself, an' the rat Sagitar, too, if'n I ain't mistaken. Hah! Sagitar's got a bow an' arrow. Look out, she's about to shoot!"

Rasconza flicked his favorite dagger high, catching it as it spun downward. "Hoho! They kin fire shafts all day, we're well out o' range!"

The arrow cut the air in a high arc, dipping to hit the ground far short of the Wave Brethren.

Rasconza nudged a couple of rats. "They ain't shootin' to slay nobeast, that's some kind o' message. Go an' fetch it, mates, we'll see wot Ublaz has t'say."

Rasconza read aloud the message written on a parchment attached to the arrow.

"The five ships you have are useless without rudders and tillers. I still hold the timber stock needed to repair them. At dawn tomorrow I will meet you where this arrow fell to earth. I will come alone, unarmed, ready to reach an agreement. My compliments to your skill as a leader and an adversary. I do not wish any further enmity to you; we will make peace and rule together.

Ublaz"

Rasconza tied a red silken kerchief to a speartop and waved it back and forth, signaling agreement to the meeting. As he did so, he said to his captains, "So, wants to talk peace, does 'e? Haharr, I'd trust that 'un like I'd trust you lot with a keg o' grog. But never fear, buckoes, I knows wot Mad Eyes is up to, an' I'm ready!"

Ublaz tied his green silk kerchief to Sagitar's bow and waved heartily in reply as he gave instructions to his Chief Trident-rat.

"This time there will be no mistakes. You have your orders."

Sagitar averted her eyes from the mad hypnotic stare. “Sire, your orders will be carried out."

The pine marten continued waving the kerchief, his voice laden with menace.

"Fail me this time and your trident shall be fixed to the jetty, Sagitar. With your head mounted upon it!"

Chapter 40

It took quite some time for the Abbot to muster up his courage and uncover his eyes. Lowering the blanket slowly, he peeped out at the head of Lask Frildur protruding through the smashed panel of the cabin door. Durral sat fascinated with horror, staring at the big lizard's head, until gradually the truth dawned upon him. There was no foul-smelling breath, the mouth was loosely open and the reptilian eyes were glazed over, half closed. Then the old mouse heard the drip drip onto the floor from a hideous slash beneath the scaly chin, right across the neck ...

The Monitor General was dead!

Durral began to shake all over, his frail body quivering with relief. Slowly he rose and ventured towards the door.

"Hello, is anybeast out there?" he called.

A low, hoarse voice answered. "Ahoy, mouse, 'tis yer old messmate Romsca. Open the door!"

Fearfully, the Abbot shifted the table that had been wedging the door. Trying not to look at the slain monster he unbarred the shutter, pulling inward. Hampered by the weight of the Monitor the door sagged open; Durral hurried past the dead lizard, out onto the open deck.

Romsca sat with her back to the mast, a cutlass clutched loosely in her paws. With an effort she lifted her head and smiled weakly at the Abbot. "You ain't goin' t'start callin' me yore child, are yer?"

Durral shook his head numbly, trying to ignore the scene of carnage around him. Deadbeasts were draped everywhere on the silent ship as it ploughed the watery wastesfrom the masts, over the rails and on the deck, from stem to stern. Wavewormresembled a floating slaughter house. Romsca's head fell forward and the cutlass slipped from her grasp, her voice half chuckle, half gurgle.

"Pretty, ain't it? There's only you'n'me left, Durral."

Hurrying to the corsair's side, the Abbot cradled her head, using the blanket he had brought with him as a pillow.

"Friend, you're hurt!" he cried.

Romsca's head lolled against Durral's stained habit. "Aye, that's the truth, bucko, but I fixed ole Lask good'n'proper, didn't I! Aaahhh! Don't move me, there's only this mast holdin' my back t'gether..."

Durral tried to glance over the ferret's shoulder at her back. She winced and shook her head slightly. "Don't look, you don't wanna see wot that lizard's claws'n'fangs did ter me, mate. Now lissen careful, 'cos there ain't much time. Let go of me easy like, an' make yer way t'the tiller. She's still 'eaded due west, so take a stern line an' lash 'er steady. Go on, Father Abbot, do like I say!"

Making Romsca as comfortable as possible, the old mouse eased himself away from her and scurried aft. Taking the stern rope he tied it to one side of the gallery rail, looped it several times round the tiller and tied the other end to the opposite rail, lashing the ship on course, due west. Then he went on a tour of the vessel. Stumbling over a slain Monitor and two searats he found glowing embers in the brazier in Lask's cabin. He added wood, lamp oil and sea coal and soon had a fire rekindled. First he put on some water to heat, then hunted around until he found an old canvas and some blankets. It was still drizzling lightly when he returned to Romsca; she had dozed off. Durral made a lean-to with the canvas and covered the corsair ferret with blankets to keep her warm, then he resumed his search of the ship.

Noon found the sky darkening. Bruised purple clouds hung over the oily foamless swell of billows, and now the drizzle had turned to steady rain. It was still warm, though, and steam rose from Durral's fur as he bustled out to Romsca with food and drink.

The corsair opened her eyes feebly. "Yore a good creature, but an ole fool. Take care o' yerself. I ain't worth it, my string's played out."

Durral cradled Romsca's head as he ladled soup into her mouth. "I'm afraid it's only dried fish and ship's biscuit with some water, but 'tis the best I could do, friend. You saved my life, and you were good to Viola too. Without you we would both have fallen victim to those lizards long ago. Drink up, now."

Romsca turned her mouth away from the ladle. “Water, just give us a drop of water, matey. I'm parched."

The Abbot carefully guided a beaker to her mouth. Romsca sipped the liquid and winked faintly at him. "You 'earken t'me, Durral, y'could never sail this tub back ter Mossflower, but she's bound due west, and with luck y'll landfall at the isle of Sampetra. I've got mates there, tell 'em yore my pal. 'Tis yer only chance, may'ap they'll 'elp you."

Durral stroked the corsair's tattooed paw. "Now, now, my child, none of that talk. You'll live to see your friends again, I'll make sure of it."

Romsca smiled, her voice growing fainter as she replied, "I 'opes y'make it back to Redwall Abbey someday, it looked like a nice place t'be. Hmph, you won't be bothered with types like me then, corsairs an' searats an' all manner o' wavescum ..."

She shuddered, and Durral drew the blanket up to her chin. "Hush, now, and rest, my child."

As Romsca's eyes closed, she murmured drowsily, "My child. I like that. Thank ye, my Father."

Her head lolled forward onto the Father Abbot of Redwall's paws for the last time.

Durral sat nursing the dead corsair until it grew dark, heedless of the rain that soaked him as Wavewormsailed silently westward on the drifting swell with its lone cargo. One old mouse.

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BOOK THREE

When Tears Are Shed

Chapter 41

Viola was wakened by the sounds of low voices nearby. It was Martin and Grath talking together. The logboat was almost stationary, bobbing in the warming dawn. Seaweed hawsers trailed limply along the boat's sides, and the sealfolk were nowhere to be seen.

Martin stood in the prow, staring up at a mountain that reared out of the ocean. "Well, it's big enough," he said, "but it doesn't look like we can land anywhere. Why did the sealfolk slide off and leave us here, I wonder? It's nought but a mountain thrusting up out of the water."