High Rhulain

That afternoon, the wildcat sat out with Scaut beneath a pier awning, watching the coracles fishing out on the lake. Just as the weilmark was beginning to doze off in the warm sun, a prod from the warlord’s axehaft stirred him back to wakefulness.

“Who’s that coming along the shore?”

Scaut blinked. “It looks like your son Pitru with some of his guards. Shall I go an’ see wot he wants, Lord?”

Riggu Felis leaned back, closing his eyes. “No, let him come to me. We’ll know soon enough.”

The young cat swaggered up and stood in front of his father, who was feigning sleep. Pitru rattled his scimitar on the pier boards to gain attention, addressing his father insolently.

“Hah, the mighty Lord of Green Isle, eh? Taking a nap while his slaves are escaping!”

Felis opened one eye disdainfully. “Oh, it’s you. What’s all this nonsense about escaping slaves?”

Pitru signalled to his catguards, who tossed a slain otter down on the pier. It was the body of Runka Streamdog, brother of Banya. Pitru indicated it with a wave of his blade. “This is one of them. He was supposed to be fishing. I spotted the empty coracle floating round by the reeds. There were two slaves—one managed to get away but we killed this one. And all the time our bold warlord was snoring the afternoon away. But I shouldn’t be complaining. The very old are like babes, they need their daytime nap.”

Instead of replying to his son’s insult, the wildcat turned upon Scaut, growling menacingly, “Didn’t you give that young idiot my instructions?”

The weilmark came to his own defence hastily. “Sire, I was half the mornin’ tellin’ everybeast yore orders, but Pitru an’ his guards weren’t to be found, Lord. I swear, I searched for’em everywhere!”

The warlord began advancing on his hapless minion, backing him toward the lake as he prodded him with a punishing claw. “My orders were that some slaves should escape! Otherwise, how would the rebels know about their leader’s capture and the fate I had decreed for him, eh? Who would deliver my message to them, you thick-eared dolt!”

He gave Scaut a final, savage shove that sent him splashing into the lake, which was fairly deep by the end pylons. Scaut went right under. He bobbed up once, banged his head on the pier’s underside and went down again.

Riggu Felis shook his head in disgust as he beckoned to the guards. “Get that buffoon out of there before he drowns.”

Pushing their spearpoles under the pier, the catguards probed about. Scaut surfaced, a moment later, hanging onto the spears and spewing out muddy water as he yowled like a madbeast. “Haaaaarggggg! Yooooaagh! Gemme out!”

They hauled him out, tangled up with the ropes that bound him to the rotting carcass of Atunra, the missing pine marten. Two guards slashed away with their spearblades, hacking through the ropes and freeing the weilmark from his horrific burden. Scaut frantically scrambled out of the decomposing Atunra’s embrace, clambered onto the pier and fainted in a pool of lakewater.

Pitru peered distastefully at the body floating in the lake. “Ugh, what is it?”

From behind his chain mail half-mask, the warlord hissed, “Don’t take me for a fool. You know it’s Atunra, my faithful counsellor!”

Pitru smiled innocently. “So that’s where she went? Well, nobeast told me. Like your order that the slaves should escape. Nobeast told me that, either.”

The warlord spoke accusingly. “Yet you slew one of my slaves?”

The young cat looked guilelessly at his father. “Who, me? I never slew your slave. That was Scorecat Yund, my trusty servant. My catguards are very loyal to me, I believe they’d kill anybeast I told them to.”

It was a war of words. Riggu Felis nodded knowingly. “Aye, my guards would also slay anybeast for me, and I have far more guards at my command than you do.”

Evening shades fell over Holt Summerdell after a long, hot day. The music of gently cascading water cooled the air, lending an aura of tranquility to the scene. Otter clanbeasts sat around on the ledges amid fragrant flower scents, listening to the birds trilling their evensong. Young ones played on the waterslide or swam about in the lower rock pools.

Only Big Kolun Galedeep could not relax. Pacing up and down, back and forth, he watched the sun sink lower in the west. Kolun constantly repeated what he had been saying since midnoon. “Where can that Shellhound have got to? Where?”

Deedero looked up from a baby tunic she was embroidering. “If’n I knew where he was I’d be the first to tell ye, Kolun. Now sit down an’ relax! Yore makin’ me dizzy.”

The big otter continued his pacing. “Huh, me’n’Banya were back here just afore lunchtime. I don’t like it, Leatho should’ve been back long since.”

Deedero’s patience began wearing thin. “So ye keep sayin’, ye great worrywart. Why not go an’ do somethin’ about it? Banya has. She’s gone back along the trail lookin’ for Leatho. Go an’ lend her a paw!”