From all around the walltop sentries came running to see what the disturbance was about. The Marlfox vixen, Predak, was waiting in the ditch near the west wall. The moment she saw the shrew guards desert their posts she made her move. Climbing stealthily from the ditch, she hurried to the base of the wall, unwinding a slim length of rope with a stone tied to one end. It took four throws before a satisfactory cast was made, but on the fourth try the stone soared upward and over the top of an ornamental spur jutting from the wall, just below the battlements near the northwest corner. Predak caught the stone as it fell. Now she held both ends of the rope in her paws, and she pulled each in turn, testing it. The rope ran free over the stone spur, backward and forward. Moreover, it could not be seen from the walltop unless a sentry were to lean out too far for safety. Leaving the rope with both ends touching the ground, Predak stole away, back to the east side, where Gelltor and Ascrod awaited her. The vixen radiated satisfaction as she made her report.

“Nobeast saw me, the rope’s in place, and all we have to do now is get the siege ladder nearby in the ditch, wait for nightfall, then haul it up to the wall. How did the diversion go?”

Gelltor twirled the severed rope idly. “Oh, it worked well enough, but they were onto us, more or less as I expected. That hare slashed the rope with a device he’d thought up. Stukkfur never made it over the wall, but it provided the decoy we needed.”

Predak inspected the shorn rope end. “Stukkfur was a good soldier. A fool, but obedient. Pity he’s gone.”

Ascrod interrupted her. “Surprisingly enough, Stukkfur wasn’t killed. He must have a head made of solid bone. Look, there he is.”

Stukkfur was wandering in a daze around the rats who were busy building the siege ladder. Both paws were still held high over his head, grasping a long piece of rope, which he stumbled over as he meandered willy-nilly. There was not a single tooth left in Stukkfur’s mouth, and beneath the bulging lump on his brow both eyes were black and blue. Bumbling about, the water rat muttered to himself, “Musht drop ober d’wallsh, ohben d’wallgatesh, musht do’t!”

*

Bargle led his relief column of Guosim shrews up onto the walltop, where Florian greeted him huffily. “Well hoorah an’ hang out the jolly old flags, relief at last, wot! A chap could fade from the famine, waitin’ up here. Have a good night’s sleep, did ye? No doubt you breakfasted well, early lunch too by the look of ye. Fiddle de dee, sir, tardy in the extreme!”