He found himself staring at the business ends of an
assortment of pikes and spears, wielded by an unpleasant-
looking assortment of furry assailants.
“Me fault,” Mudge muttered, angry at himself. “I
‘eard ’em comin’, I did, but not quite soon enough.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” said the voice which had
spoken a moment, before. “There are too many of us
anyway, and though we are instructed to bring you in
alive, it wasn’t specified in what condition.”
Stepping through the circle of armed warmlanders was a
coatimundi nearly as tall as Mudge. His natural black
striping had been enhanced with brown decorations painted
on muzzle and tail. One front canine was missing, and the
remainder of the long, sharp teeth were stained yellow. He
rested one paw on the hilt of a thick, curved dagger belted
at his waist. The dagger was also stained, but not yellow.
Jon-Tom thought rapidly. Like Mudge’s bow, his own
duar and ramwood staff lay in the bed of the wagon. If he
could just get to them…. Well, what if he could? As this
apparent leader of their captors had said, they were badly
outnumbered.
“Right. Wot is it you want with us?” Mudge asked.
“We’re just a couple of innocent travelers, poor prospects
for thieves.”
The coati shook his head and glared at them over his
long snout out of bright black eyes. “I’m not interested in
your worldly possessions, whatever they might be. I’ve
been ordered by my master to bring you in.”
“So Lorsha found us out anyway,” the otter muttered.
He sounded wistful. “Well, them three days were almost