Gingivere’s voice reached Martin. He sounded weak and despairing. “Save yourself, Martin. Get far away from this place and my sister.”

Gonff pulled Martin away, calling as he went, “I’m Gonff, the Prince of Mousethieves. We’ve got to go now, but if you’ve helped my friend then I’ll try and help you someday.”

As they hurried along the corridor, Gingivere’s voice echoed behind. “Thank you. Good fortune go with both of you friends.”

They reached the end of the passage and mounted the stairs. Gonff was panting slightly, so Martin waited while he regained his breath. The stairs were built in a spiral. At the top was a wooden door. Gonff held up a paw for silence as he eased it open. It was all clear. They stepped out into a broad hallway which stretched away to the left and right of them.

Martin scratched his head. “Which way? Left or right?”

Gonff placed his slim blade on the floor and spun it. They stood watching until it stopped. “Left. Come on, matey.”

Continuing down the hallway, they saw a high window with the morning sunlight streaming through onto the top of a flat wide stairway. Gonff groaned. “Oh no, we’re late. We’ve mistimed it because of that dark cell. Ah well, if we hurry they may still be waiting outside for us. Which way now?”

As the steps took a turn they were in a smaller hall with a door at either end. The sound of Tsarmina’s voice could be heard. They froze. “If one word of this ever gets out, just one, you vixen and you Ashleg, I’ll see you both hanged in chains over a roasting pit. The army will only follow the rightful leader, and now that my brother is in the cells, that’s me. I am Queen of the Thousand Eyes. I rule Kotir and Mossflower.”

The escapers backed down onto the stairway they had just ascended, the echoes of Tsarmina’s voice all around them as they ran round the turn of the steps.

Martin and Gonff crashed straight into Tsarmina, Ashleg and Fortunata, who had unknowingly been walking up the stairs behind them!

* * *

In the shrubs and small trees that bordered the woodland edge of Kotir the otters and squirrels lay low. It was full bright morning, long past the dawn. Birds were singing. The sun beamed over bright greenery dotted with daphne, spurge laurel and late winter jasmine.

Oblivious to the beauty around him, Skipper lay whispering to Amber. “We can’t hang the anchor round here much longer, marm.”

Amber stared at Kotir’s gloomy walls. “You’re right, Skip. We could be spotted in broad daylight from those walls quite easily. Where in the name of the fur has that little thief got to?”

“We can only give him a little longer,” Skipper shrugged resignedly. “Then we’ll have to push off and try another day.”

A young dark-colored otter came wriggling through the grass on his stomach and saluted them. “Huh, you’re never goin’ to believe this, Skip, but there’s a whole fleet of mice dressed in funny-lookin’ robes comin’ this way through the woods. Never seen ought like it in all me born days.”