Ullig drained his beaker and held it forth for a refill. “Oh aye? Wot is it now, another surprise inspection from ’er Majesty, or is the noise o’ this whip disturbin’ ’er royal peace?”

“Oh no, the royal peace won’t be disturbed ever again, Ullig.”

“Wot d’yer mean by that?”

“High Queen Silth is dead, long live Queen Lantur, and her Chief Adviser Wilce!”

Wine ran either side of Ullig’s mouth as he slopped it down and held out his beaker for more. “Haharr! I’ll drink ter that. So, you an’ yore Marlfox friend finally finished off the old one. Clever, Wilce, clever!”

Wilce’s paw was like a vise as she grabbed Ullig’s, restraining him from lifting the beaker to his mouth. “Keep talkin’ like that an’ yore a deadrat!” she hissed viciously. “Queen Silth was slain durin’ the night, by the White Ghost. I knew all along that White Ghost was the spirit of ’er mate returnin’ to avenge hisself for the treacherous way she slew ’im. Right?”

A thin smile crossed Ullig’s cruel features. “Right you are, Wilce. Everybeast knowed that someday Silth’d pay fer killin’ ’er mate. Lantur was ’is favorite daughter, so ’tis only fittin’ that she rules the island now—wid you to guide an’ advise ’er, of course, an’ me to command the army.”

Wilce released Ullig’s paw and allowed him to drink. “Well spoken, Ullig. You catch on pretty fast. Now, there’ll be a buryin’ ceremony at the lakeside before long. What we need is for you to get everybeast yellin’, ‘Long live High Queen Lantur!’”

Ullig tossed the empty beaker aside and tilted the flask to his lips as he toasted the conspiracy. “Long live ’Igh Queen Lantur!”

Wilce gathered up the two beakers. “Not so loud, friend. Nobeast’s supposed to know she’s dead yet!”

One of the slaves, a sturdy female hedgehog, whispered to an otter working alongside her, “Did you ’ear that? Silth’s dead an’ Lantur’s Queen now.”

The otter labored on, not raising his eyes. “Makes no difference to us, does it? One Marlfox is bad as another to a field slave.”

*