High Rhulain

The ottermaid stood wide-eyed. “I’ve seen that rock in my dreams! What is it? I mean, what does it stand for, sir?”

The dark eyes of the Badger Lord widened in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”

Pointing to the rock, he explained solemnly. “That is where the Queen of Green Isle was lost forever—she, her brother and an entire crew of Wildlough otters. Their ship was wrecked on that rock, and they were slain by murderous wildcats!”

Tiria felt very young and ignorant in Lord Mandoral’s presence. “But how do you know all of this, sir? It must have taken place in the far distant past, long before your time.”

The Badger Lord indicated the pile of scrolls. “Recorded history, Tiria. Did I not tell you that I have become a student of all the events at Salamandastron?”

The ottermaid gazed longingly at the scrolls. “Let me study the history, too, Lord. I must find out more about the High Queen.”

Mandoral allowed one of his rare smiles to the young otter. “No need for that, I can tell you all about the Rhulain. I have researched the subject thoroughly.”

The big badger swept Tiria up, as if she weighed no more than a leaf, and deposited her on the windowsill. “First, you must understand that the queen was no stranger to Salamandastron. She had visited here before. This was in the reigning seasons of Lord Urthwyte, the great white badger. Through my studies I learned that they were friends. Throughout the ages, Badger Lords have possessed formidable skills in the making of weapons and armoury. Take, for instance, Boar the Fighter. It was he who made the fabulous sword for your Martin the Warrior. Lord Urthwyte was gifted with a particular talent, the manufacture of armour. Nobeast before or since ever produced shields or armour of such strength and beauty.”

“And did he make armour for the Rhulain, sir?”

Mandoral’s massive paw touched Tiria’s mouth gently, silencing her. “I am always saying to the young hares here, the only way you will ever learn is by listening, not by speaking.”

Tiria watched in silence as Mandoral went to the pile of scrolls. He selected one, which he spread on the windowsill alongside the ottermaid.

“This is a sketch drawn by Lord Urthwyte. It was to be a new armoured breastplate he had designed for the High Queen. Now you know why I mentioned her to you. Look!”

It was the regal otter lady, just as Tiria had seen her in that first dream. About her brow was the slim gold circlet, containing the large round emerald. Beneath her richly embroidered cloak of dark green, the breastplate could be seen. It was burnished silver metal, with a gold star radiating from its centre. She wore a short kilt, around which her sling was belted, with a stone pouch attached. Tiria took in all of this at a glance, but she stared hard and long at the face.

Tiria was aware of Mandoral voicing his thoughts aloud.

“The moment I saw you down on the shore, I felt that Queen Rhulain was reborn. Now I am certain of it.”

The ottermaid was still gazing at the sketch. “Aye, sir, she could be my older sister for sure!”

The Badger Lord lifted her effortlessly down from the sill. “Come with me, I have something to show you.”

When Tiria saw him draw back a hanging wall curtain, she knew where Mandoral had vanished to previously. He unlocked the door which stood behind it.

“This is my own personal bedchamber-cum-study-cumrefuge from mess halls packed with noisy Long Patrol hares.”

She inspected the badger’s retreat. It had one smaller window, shelves full of volumes and parchments, a table, a comfortable chair and various pieces of armour and weaponry hanging from two walls. The Badger Lord took a bundle from a cupboard and placed it upon the table.

“That last ill-fated voyage made by the Rhulain has been documented by Lord Urthwyte. She came from Green Isle to Salamandastron to be measured for a new armoured breastplate. Urthwyte was planning on making one for her. Apparently he thought the old one was getting rather thin and battered. Like that of Badger Lords, Otter Queens’ apparel can get some fairly rough treatment. From Urthwyte’s records, I gather the new armour would take a full season to manufacture. Alas, she was never destined to see it. But even after the High Queen’s death, Urthwyte continued with the breastplate until it was completed. He was a beast with a love for his art, you see. I had the regimental tailors re-create the cloak and kilt from the drawing you saw. As for my own contribution, I made the sling and stonepouch. Unfortunately, there is one piece of the regalia missing, the coronet. We possessed gold enough, but nothing remotely resembling the great round emerald which would have completed it. I want you to take these things, Tiria Wildlough. They are yours by right, I think. I’m sure they will fit you well.”