Ashleg cringed behind his wildcat mistress as she stood glaring upward at the soaring eagle. “Shoot, you fools! Not over there, idiots! There, see, right above your thick heads.”

The soldiers continued firing without success. Tsarmina grabbed a particularly slow ferret and cuffed him soundly about the head. Hurling the smarting creature to one side, she picked up his bow and notched an arrow to the string. Taking careful aim, she paused a moment as the eagle swooped lower. Swiftly she loosed the barbed shaft with a powerful hiss of flighted feathers. To the surprise of the watchers, Argulor wheeled to one side then shot upward in pursuit of the arrow. Up he went until the shaft had reached its peak of flight, then wheeling quickly inward the eagle caught the arrow in his talon and contemptuously snapped it. Zooming downward, he flew low enough to stare for a second at Tsarmina, then he beat the air with massive wingstrokes, flying away into the blue yonder.

Tsarmina would have vented her rage upon Ashleg, but he had vanished inside when he saw the eagle diving.

“Get out of my sight, you useless lot of buffoons!”

The soldiers followed Ashleg with all speed, each trying not to be last as Tsarmina was in the mood for making examples.

The wildcat stood alone pondering a question: where had she seen that same look of vengeance and fearlessness before? The mouse, that was it! She could not even recall his name; anyhow, he probably hadn’t lasted the winter down in the cells.

Tsarmina watched a furtive figure coming across the parade ground, ducking and weaving, flattening itself in the shadows. She snorted scornfully; it was only Fortunata. “Frightened of a blind old eagle, vixen?”

“Milady, I was ducking the arrows and stones of your soldiers as they came down, but that was a good shot of yours,” Fortunata said in a fawning voice. “A pity that the eagle caught it in midair.”

The vixen jumped sharply to one side as Tsarmina fired an arrow from the ferret’s bow. It landed where her paw had been a moment before.

Tsarmina notched another arrow, her eyes glinting cruelly. “Right, let’s see what you’re best at, fox—catching arrows or getting inside with a civil tongue in your head.”

She bent the bow back and giggled wickedly at the sight of Fortunata beating a hopskip retreat.

Sooner or later the Queen of the Thousand Eyes had the final say in all things.

* * *

Something rattled through the slit window above Martin and Gonff. In the semigloom they groped about in the straw until Gonff found the object.

Martin could not conceal his disappointment. “Goodness me, a stick. How helpful. We could take this place single-pawed with a stick. What a useful thing to send us.”

It was not a stick. Gonff ignored his cellmate and set about undoing the thin wire that bound the bark parchment to the slim blade. He unfolded the parchment and moved into the light, where he read aloud the message it contained.