As Goody folded the blanket away, Ben carried Ferdy and Coggs inside.

Still asleep, Ferdy waved his stick. “Who goes there? I’ll fight the six of you!”

At Kotir, Fortunata was also sleeping peacefully, until the banging of spearbutts against her chamber door brought her yawning and shuffling from her bed.

“Who’s there? Go away and see Ashleg about it, whatever it is.”

Brogg and Scratt stood aside as Cludd, the weasel Captain of the guard, kicked the door open. “Come on, fox. You’re wanted by Queen Tsarmina. She’s camped by the River Moss.”

Fortunata rubbed her injured rump. “Couldn’t Ashleg go? I’m injured.”

Cludd’s stolid face was expressionless. “No, the Queen wants you there by dawn. You’re to bring the Gloomer with you. Brogg and Scratt’ll lend a paw.”

Fortunata recoiled with fright and distaste. “The Gloomer! I thought that horror had died years ago or gone away.” Cludd pointed his spear at the vixen. “Come on now, no nonsense. You know what Milady’s like if you disobey her orders. We’ll make sure Gloomer’s well secured.”

Fortunata had no choice. In a foul temper, she followed the three soldiers down corridors and flights of stairs to the very bowels of the fortress.

Far beneath the cells there was an underground cavern and a great lake. The only one who ever went down to the lake was the guard who was detailed to feed the Gloomer. Once a week he would take down the refuse from the barracks, leaving it a respectable distance from the post to which Gloomer’s long chain was attached at the lake’s edge.

Verdauga had captured Gloomer and brought him to Kotir long ago. The monster water rat was robbed of normal sight after years of swimming in the dark murky waters of the lake. It had little hearing and no speech at all. None of this mattered while it still possessed the instincts of touch and smell; the Gloomer was a killer, savage and mindless, particularly when there was fresh meat to be had.

Fortunata was frightened; this was no place to be in the night hours. Gingerly she picked up the chain. The rattling iron links echoed eerily around the cold musty cavern, and what little courage the fox had failed her. She dropped the chain, looking imploringly toward Cludd. “I’m only a vixen. This will take a creature strong and brave as a Captain of the Guard.”

The obvious slyness of the remark did not escape Cludd, yet he swelled slightly at the flattery. Taking the chain firmly, he nodded at the others. “Right. Stay out of the way and leave this to me. I know how to deal with Gloomer.”

Tugging hard on the rusty chain, Cludd splashed it up and down in the water as he pulled. The underground lake rippled, and there was an audible gasp of shock from the three onlookers as the Gloomer’s monstrous head appeared from the depths like the worst kind of vision from a bad dream. The eyes were staring, sightless white marbles veined with blood-red streaks, the snout ribbed and scarred like a wet black patch of leather. What little fur there was on the head was plastered flat. Water ran off it as the mouth opened wide.