‘Was asleep,’ muttered a hoarse voice from the darkness, ‘but always ready to help a friend in need …’
Whisker looked through the archway to see a middle-aged mouse stumbling into the pale light. The oversized beige pyjamas he was wearing bunched around his ankles, threatening to trip him up as he walked. With dusty, grey fur and a large collection of worry lines across his brow, he blended in perfectly with the rough stone walls of the cottage. He positioned a pair of round spectacles on his nose as he entered the room.
‘Gracious me, Whisker!’ he exclaimed, catching sight of the dishevelled apprentice. ‘Look at the state you’re in. Anyone would think you just survived a fist fight with a mob of angry lobsters.’
Whisker removed his hole-ridden hood and brushed the tangled fur from his eyes.
‘It was closer to a battalion of soldier crabs,’ he said, trying to humour the sleepy teacher.
Madam Pearl and Mr Tribble exchanged nervous glances.
‘When did this happen?’ Madam Pearl asked, her voice deadly serious.
‘Last night,’ Whisker said, ‘in the Fish ‘n Ships Inn. W-why? Is something wrong?’
Madam Pearl’s face darkened.
‘General Thunderclaw,’ she whispered. ‘Was he there?’
‘Yes,’ Whisker said, recalling his narrow escape from the commander of the Blue Claw. ‘He was leading the charge. But how did you –’
‘I know,’ Madam Pearl quavered, ‘because three nights ago the same thing happened to me.’
Public Enemy Number Two
Whisker felt an icy chill run through his tail. ‘Thunderclaw came looking for you?’
Madam Pearl nodded gravely.
‘I was in a safe house in Applesworth, south-west of here,’ she explained. ‘General Thunderclaw and several hundred of his soldier crabs surrounded the premises at dusk. Without warning, they smashed through the ground floor windows and tore the place to shreds. If it wasn’t for the secret escape passage in the basement, I’d be in weasel heaven right now.’
‘How did they know where to find you?’ Whisker asked, confused. ‘Aren’t safe houses supposed to be safe?’
Madam Pearl gave him a wry smile. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt as a fugitive, Whisker, it’s that safety has less to do with the roof over your head, than the price on your head. Five days ago, the bounty for my arrest jumped from one hundred gold coins to one thousand. With that kind of money up for grabs, I suddenly became the most wanted felon in Aladrya. Foolishly, I put my trust in a cherry-lipped cousin from Applesworth – but as they say in those parts, the sweetest looking apples often have rotten cores. After my narrow escape from Thunderclaw I made my way to this overgrown school cottage in Oakbridge –’
She looked down fondly at Emmie and added, ‘With friends I can trust.’
‘It’s no luxury penthouse,’ Mr Tribble admitted, pointing to the thin rope dangling from an open trapdoor in the ceiling, ‘but the loft is surprisingly comfortable and, as you have witnessed, Whisker, ideal for spying on intruders.’
‘Or dropping in on them unannounced,’ Whisker added under his breath.
‘We considered telling you about Madam Pearl’s arrival when we visited the Death Ball final yesterday,’ Mr Tribble said in defence, ‘but things got a little hectic after the match!’
‘I understand,’ Whisker said, taking a seat on Emmie’s bed. ‘It was a frantic day for all of us.’ He ran his fingers over the soft blanket, recalling the final events of the Pirate Cup. It seemed like an eternity ago since he’d stood on the victory podium, clutching the Trophy of Champions, and the signs of his exhausting escape from the crabs were beginning to show. His eyes were red, his tail twitched awkwardly and his entire body yearned for rest.
‘Can I tempt a weary traveller with a spot of breakfast?’ Mr Tribble asked, picking up a small kettle from the fireplace. ‘It may take a few minutes to locate your map from the school library, and you’ll feel much better with a slice of pie in your belly.’
‘It’s Fred’s famous red berry recipe,’ Emmie chimed in, singing the praises of the gentle Pie Rat chef.
‘Thanks,’ Whisker said with a tired smile, ‘and perhaps you’d better set a couple of extra places.’
‘Are we expecting more company?’ Madam Pearl said, glancing nervously at the door.
‘Only Ruby and Horace,’ Whisker reassured her. ‘The rest of the crew are travelling by foot and won’t pass through until later today. Oh, I should mention Chatterbeak – the parrot commentator from the Pirate Cup who agreed to fly us to the mountain. He’s currently on an aerial sweep of the school grounds while Ruby and Horace search the school library.’
Mr Tribble raised an eyebrow. ‘The school library? What on earth are those two trouble-makers doing skulking around my beloved library?’
‘We, err … weren’t exactly sure where your accommodation was situated,’ Whisker said cagily. ‘And, knowing your love of history books, it seemed like the logical place to start.’
Mr Tribble opened his mouth to protest, but Madam Pearl was already speaking, ‘Can this feathered friend of yours be trusted, Whisker?’
‘Chatterbeak?’ Whisker said. ‘Oh yes. He’s totally harmless.’
‘Harmless, maybe,’ Madam Pearl considered. ‘But can he keep his beak shut?’ She placed one paw on the rope. ‘Forgive my overcautious nature, Whisker, but I can’t have every passing pigeon, sea gull and swallow discovering my location.’
‘Safety first,’ Whisker said, rising from the bed to farewell her. ‘I understand.’
Madam Pearl hoisted herself onto the rope.
‘I know how much your sister means to you, Whisker,’ she said, ‘and I wish I could do more to help. But in my current predicament, all I can offer you is this.’ She released one paw from the rope and unhooked the string of pearls from around her neck, lowering the precious necklace to Whisker. The pearls clinked and rattled like tiny bells as they cascaded over the sides of Whisker’s open paws.
He stared at the string of shimmering spheres and wondered if he’d ever held anything so flawless or so beautiful.
‘I-I can’t accept this,’ he said, thrusting the necklace back to her. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’
Madam Pearl shook her head, returning her paw to the rope.
‘A fortune buys many things,’ she said, climbing higher. ‘Supplies, weapons
