The news would have made little difference to Mokkan either. The Marlfox, following his own secret route, found himself attacked by lizards. He had deviated by mistake from the river into a watermeadow, which, half a paddle’s depth beneath the surface, was swamp. Berating the rat paddlers and the shrew Fenno, he had them turn about, only to find that the way back to the river was blocked by a teeming horde of lizards, newts and toads. The first inkling he had was when a rat in the prow fell overboard with a gurgle, his throat pierced by a sharpened dried bulrush stem. Then the water came alive with reptiles swimming toward the logboat, while others hurled rush lances from the reeded shallows. Mokkan crouched low and shouted frantic orders to his crew. “Use your paddles! Don’t let them aboard or we’re lost!”

The logboat rocked from side to side as Mokkan made his way to the prow, pushing past the paddlers. He seized the slain rat’s oar and began wielding it energetically, making toward the twin tongues of land that formed the watermeadow entrance. Smashing a toad over the head with his blade, the Marlfox urged his water rats onward as they alternately paddled or hit out at the reptiles who attempted to board the logboat. In the stern of the vessel, Fenno gnawed on the thong like a beast in a trap. Slobbering and spitting, he chewed madly, straining the thong tight by pulling hard with his strong neck. The rawhide snapped as they were passing through the jutting landspurs. Fenno bundled himself ashore and lay still among the reeds and bushes, watching the cold-eyed reptiles hurrying by, trying to catch the vessel before it struck open water.

Mokkan felt the pull of the current. Knocking water rats aside, he dashed to the stern of the boat. “Paddle for your lives! Keep to the center stream! Go! Go!” Slashing left and right with his ax, the Marlfox slew a toad and a frilled newt who were clinging to the after end. Powered by panic-stricken rats, the logboat shot off downriver.

It was long after midnight when Fenno risked moving a limb. Shutting his ears to the horrible screams of a water rat whom the reptiles had captured, he crawled off stealthily through the undergrowth.

Mokkan forced his remaining nine rats to paddle all night. They halted at dawn on the bank of a dry sunburned field, but before he allowed them to eat, drink, or tend their wounds, the Marlfox had them spread the precious tapestry out on the grass. “Clean it, brush the edges well and make sure the fringe isn’t tangled. It must be kept in perfect condition for High Queen Silth. It is a thing of rare beauty!”