About “The Mouse Patrol That Never Sleeps,” a lethal
little bloodthirsty ditty about an ever-watchful carnivorous
kitty. Or so he’d once described it to a friend.
He sang it now, wishing lan Anderson were about to
accompany him on the flute, the words pouring rapidly
from his lips as he tried to concentrate on the tune while
keeping a worried eye on the comatose crew.
The section of anchor chain that had been used to bind
Roseroar suddenly cracked and fell away. She looked in
amazement at the broken links, then up at Jon-Tom.
Wordlessly, she went to work on the much thinner chains
restraining her companions. Mudge and Jalwar were freed
quickly as immense biceps strained. They vanished below-
decks as she worked on Jon-Tom’s bindings. By the time
she’d finished freeing him, the otter and ferret had reappeared.
Mudge’s longbow was slung over his shoulder and his face
was almost hidden by the burden of the tigress’s armor.
Jalwar dragged her heavy swords behind him, panting
hard.
They turned and raced for the tow rope attached to the
John B. Only Jon-Tom lingered.
“Come on,” Roseroar called to him. “What ah yo
waitin’ fo?”
He whispered urgently back to her. “The girl! I promised.”
“She don’t care what yo do. She’ll only be trouble.”
“Sorry, Roseroar.” He turned and rushed for the nearest
open hatch.
“Damn,” the tigress growled. She pushed past him,
vanished below. While he waited he sang, but the spellsong
was beginning to surrender its potency. Several sailors
rolled over in their sleep, snuffling uneasily.