The Sable Quean (30 page)

Jiddle and Jinty began calling into the rocky fissure, in what they imagined were furtive undertones.

“Tura, can ye hear us? What’s it like in there?”

“Aye, ye can tell us—have y’found a way out?”

A harsh vermin voice made them jump with fright. “Wot’s goin’ on in ’ere? Wot’s all the shoutin’ about?”

The fat stoat guard, who had wakened, eyed them blearily. Jiddle and Jinty approached him, trying to look i nnocent.

“We were only playin’, sir.”

“Aye, ’cos we couldn’t sleep, sir.”

The stoat glared at them. He was not in a good mood. “Oh, playin’ were ye, ’cos ye couldn’t sleep? Well, I can sleep, see. I’m bone tired, an’ it was yore playin’ wot woke me up. Now, any more noise outta youse two, an’ we’ll play a little game called Beat the Hogs!” He waved his spearhaft at the young Witherspyk hedgehogs. “So just wake me agin, ye spiky brats, just one peep outta any of youse, an’ I’ll bring ye out in blood blisters!”

Midda watched the stoat lumbering off. She was about to give a sigh of relief when he turned, looking around suspiciously.

“Why’s it so dark in ’ere? Where’s the other lantern? There should be two of ’em in ’ere.”

Midda tried to keep the panic out of her voice. She babbled nervously, knowing that Tura had taken the other lantern with her. “Er, haha, it’s always dark in here, sir. I always thought we had only the one lantern—ain’t that right, Diggla?”

“No, we got two lanter ’s. Too’a squiggle got one.”

Midda groaned inwardly, until Tura startled the fat stoat by looming up out of the darkness with the extinguished lantern in her paw.

“The little un’s right, sir. We have got two lanterns. Here’s the other one, but it’s gone out.”

The vermin guard grabbed it roughly from the squirrelmaid. “Gone out, eh? Wait there!”

He stumped off, returning a moment later with a lighted lantern, which he passed to Midda. “Here’s a new un. Yore in charge of it. Don’t let these liddle brats play with it an’ it’ll stay lit, unnerstand?”

There was genuine relief in the shrewmaid’s voice. “Aye, sir. I’ll look after it, thankee sir!”

The stoat stared sourly at her. “Never mind thankee sir. Yew just keep this lot quiet an’ let me get a bit o’ sleep . . . or else!”

He went off back to the guardpost, where within a short time, his slobbering snores were audible.

Tura sat down next to Midda. They began conversing in hushed whispers.

“Whew, you just made it back in time, Tura. Well, what did ye find in there?”

Tura glanced at Jinty, Jiddle and some of the others who had gathered around to listen. “Now, hold yore silence or we’ll have that stoat back in here. There’s a tunnel behind that back wall!”

Midda’s paw shot out, gagging Jiddle, who was about to squeak aloud happily. The young hog mumbled, “Mm surry,” allowing Tura to continue.

“Aye, a long dark tunnel. It goes both ways, t’the left an’ right. I took a look both ways but couldn’t stay long enough. I had t’come back when I heard you two young thick’eads yellin’. D’ye realise that yore voices echo all round behind that wall?”

Tura issued them both with a stern look before she carried on. “I don’t know, but I had a feelin’ that the tunnel t’the left was the one I fancied.”

Midda clasped her friend’s paw. “You did well, mate, an’ if ye want to go left down the tunnel, then left it is!” She turned as Jinty’s paw tapped her back. “What is it? Keep yore voice down.”

The Witherspyk hogmaid asked timidly, “Two things, really. Are we all goin’? And when?”

Tura chuckled quietly. “Of course we’re all goin’. If we’re goin’ to escape, then nobeast gets left behind.”

Midda stroked little Diggla’s head; he was dropping off. “Right, but when’ll be the best time to go?”

Jiddle was not in any doubt. “There’ll never be a better time than now, while the guards are asleep!”

Tura nodded. “He’s right, Midda, but we’ll have to move fast. Once they find we’ve gone, that Sable Quean’ll have the whole lot of ’em right on our tails!”

“Unless . . . !”

She looked questioningly at Jiddle. “Unless what?”

The young hog gave a sly smile. “Unless we block the openin’—sort of disguise it so they can’t tell where we’ve gone to.”

Tura tweaked his snout. “That’s a great idea. How d’ye think we should go about it?”

Jiddle cast swift glances around the cavern, his ingenuity coming to the fore as he outlined his scheme.

 

Jinty went first. Once she was through the crack, she held up a lantern and guided the youngest ones through. When only Midda, Tura and Jiddle were left, they scoured the cave for any loose rock and rubble. There were some quite sizeable lumps of stone, large clumps of earth made up of dead roots and clay-based soil and some single pieces of thicker root limbs. Working swiftly and noiselessly, they passed the material through to Jinty, who piled it up. “That should be enough, mates. Come on through now.”

Once on the other side, Jinty and her brother led the little ones off down the left of the tunnel, holding up a lantern to guide their way. With the aid of the remaining lantern, Tura and Midda commenced blocking up the escape hole. They jammed the rocks, earth clumps and root limbs into the narrow aperture, ramming it hard with their footpaws. They completed the task, panting with the force of their efforts.

Midda gave the jammed mass a final pat. “There, I think that should do it. D’you think it’ll fool ’em?”

Tura shrugged. “Well, if’n it doesn’t, let’s just hope it buys us enough time to get clear away.”

They hurried off to join the others, the lantern casting a pool of light around the rough-hewn tunnel as they went.

The passage took a sharp bend after a while. That was where they came upon Jiddle and Jinty sitting in a huddle with the little ones.

Tura reproved the Witherspyk hogs. “Wot’n the name o’ fur’n’fancies are ye thinkin’ of, sittin’ about like moles at a meetin’? We’re supposed t’be bloomin’ well escapin’!”

Jinty indicated the babes, some of whom were curled up slumbering soundly. “It ain’t our fault. It’s these little uns—they’re tired. Some can’t go any further without rest.”

Tura lifted the mousebabe Diggla up onto her back. “Well, we can’t stop here. We’ll just have to carry ’em. You two take one apiece. Me’n Midda will take another two. The rest look fit enough to go on.”

Midda heaved one of the harebabes onto her shoulders, jollying the rest along with a cheery comment. “Haha, you lot are all bigbeasts now—y’don’t need carryin’, do ye!”

The remaining babes all voiced their various opinions.

“Gurr, oi’m turrible ’ungry!”

“An I be thirsty, too—gimme a drink, Midda!”

A volebabe set them all off with her impassioned wails. “Waaahaahhaah! I want my mammy!”

Immediately, the tunnel echoed to the cries of homesick babes wanting mothers, fathers and grandkin.

Midda decided the only way to be kind was to take a firm stand and suffer no nonsense. Holding up her lantern, she set off down the tunnel with the harebabe Urfa on her back, calling to the others, “You’d best follow me, then, ’cos ye won’t get mammies, daddies, vittles or drinks by sittin’ there cryin’. Ain’t that right, Tura?”

The squirrelmaid set off after her, assuring the babes, “Aye, that’s right enough. You come with us an’ soon you’ll get everythin’—vittles, kinbeasts, the lot!”

Once Jiddle had picked up the remaining lantern and followed Midda, the rest scrambled to join them. Nobeast wanted to be left alone in a darkened tunnel. However, it did not take long before the questions started, little ones being what they were. Both Midda and Tura did their best to answer.

“When do I sees my mammy?”

“Oh, t’won’t be long now. Just keep goin’.”

“Wot sort o’ vikkles bees us’n’s agoin’ t’get?”

“Er, nice vittles, I imagine, only the best.”

“Do we gets h’apple pudden?”

“Aye, lots of apple pudden.”

“Wiv hunny on, an’ meddycream?”

“As much as ye like and arrowroot sauce, nice’n’hot.”

“Yikk, I not like harry’oot sauce, not nice.”

“Then you don’t have to have it. Catch up, now.”

“Yurr, wot we’m bee’s a-drinken, marm?”

Tura stifled an anguished groan. “What d’ye like to drink, eh?”

Mousebabe Diggla, from his perch on the squirrelmaid’s back, shouted aloud into her ear, “Straw’bee fizz, dat’s wot us likes!”

Tura clapped a paw to her ear. “Right, strawberry fizz it is!”

The babes set up a rousing cheer. Apparently strawberry fizz was a firm favourite with little ones.

They carried on along the tunnel until Tura suddenly halted. Midda bumped into her.

“What’s up, mate? Why’ve ye stopped?”

The splashing was audible underpaw. Both lanterns were held up, revealing a flooded expanse lying ahead of them.

19

It was the fat stoat who discovered the loss of the captives. Fearful of the consequences, he searched the deserted cave in silence. His lantern revealed nothing but shadows. Realising that this would mean an instant death sentence from the ruthless Sable Quean, he kept quiet. Strolling out, he hung up his lantern at the entrance, then spoke casually to the other three vermin who were posted outside.

“All quiet in there. They won’t wake ’til they’re called fer vittles. We’ll let the relief guard do that.”

When the next four vermin marched up, the fat stoat reassured them in a routine manner. “The brats are still takin’ their shuteye. No rush to feed ’em yet. They’ll let ye know when they wakes up, ’ungry, noisy liddle nuisances!”

The fat stoat hurried off, satisfied with his pretence. He would not be the one to take the blame if questions were asked—his fellow guards would back him up, anything to avoid the wrath of Vilaya.

It was only when the guards wheeled the cauldrons of food and water in that they became aware something was wrong.

An older ferret called into the gloomy interior, “Wot’s ’appened to the lanterns? It’s dark in ’ere!”

A lanky rat, who had not been paying attention, banged a ladle on the side of the cauldron. “Cumm an’ gerrit! ’Ere’s yer vi—oof!”

The ferret had whacked him in the stomach with his spearbutt. He grabbed the ladle and flung it at the rat.

“Idjit, can’t yer see there’s nobeast ’ere?”

Another rat, who was in charge of the water, blurted out, “Wotjer mean, not ’ere? Where’ve they gone?”

There was panic in the ferret’s voice as he shouted, “I dunno, do you? Look, see fer yerself!”

The lanky rat staggered up off the floor, yelling, “Escape! Escape! The prisoners’ve escaped!”

Vilaya and Dirva arrived hurriedly, with an armed guard of Ravagers which included the four who had been on duty previously. Lanterns flooded into the cavern, illuminating it brightly.

Dirva set about the closest vermin with a stick. “Search this place. Find ’em. Now!”

“No. Everybeast stand still—stay where you are!”

They froze at the high-pitched, imperious tone of the Sable Quean, who stood where they could all see her.

Many of the vermin were bigger than she, brawnier, more hefty, but they all feared Vilaya. Even Dirva, her aged soothsayer, could sense the foreboding in the air. The sable’s bright eyes glittered. Her small, sharp teeth showed as she hissed softly. Every eye was riveted on the sleek barbaric figure with her silken purple cloak and her necklace of snake fangs. Vilaya was every inch a ruler who had to be obeyed under pain of death.

She spoke slowly and distinctively. “Who are the guards on duty here?”

The older ferret stood forward, accompanied by the lanky rat and two others, both rats.

Vilaya nodded to the ferret. “Make your report to me.”

The ferret swallowed several times before he found his voice. “Majesty, we had just taken over from the last guards. We went in with the vittles, but they was all gone—the lanterns was gone, too, it was dark.”

The Sable Quean allowed an agonising moment to pass before she spoke. “Before you went in, could you hear the prisoners talking or moving around?”

The four shook their heads, with the ferret answering for them. “There wasn’t any sound at all from in there, Majesty. We thought they was all asleep. The others we took over from said they was afore they went off duty.”

Vilaya toyed with the crystal vial hanging about her neck. “Bring them here to me.”

Dirva had the previous guard line up quickly—the fat stoat, a pair of weasels and a rat. They stood quaking, with their eyes fixed on the ground, not even daring to look at each other.

The silence became almost deafening as Vilaya gazed from one to the other. She spoke suddenly and sharply, snapping the words out. “Who was the last beast to see the prisoners?”

They were too frightened to reply, but she noticed that three of them shot a swift glance at the stoat. She beckoned him to her with one claw, continuing the movement until he was so close that he could feel her breath upon his snout. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Look at me and speak truly. When did ye last see them?”