‘Eddie has no need for such a cumbersome item.’ He slid his wiry fingers back into the bag and removed Whisker’s golden spyglass.
‘Looky, looky, another miniature telescope,’ he marvelled. ‘What a pretty pair these two will make.’
The last item he retrieved from Whisker’s small bag was a golden coin.
‘Hmm …?’ he pondered, weighing it in his paw. ‘A little too light for an Aladryan coin. But look.’ He peered closer at the face of the coin and let out a gasp of recognition. ‘Ah, Freeforian … how very interesting.’
His eyes darted momentarily to Whisker, and the Pie Rat apprentice had the sick feeling that this strange little creature knew more than he was letting on.
Whisker’s thoughts didn’t hover on the coin for long. In the blink of an eye, the gerbil had tossed the empty bag aside and was reaching into the sack for his next prize. He held up the broken ends of a thin, black cord. In the centre of the cord hung a small golden pendant.
Whisker felt a stinging pain flash across his throat as he realised what he was looking at – his golden anchor. Eddie the Ear had ripped it clean off his neck.
‘Ugly anchor,’ Eddie muttered to himself, turning the pendant around to study the initials on the back. ‘No one wants something that’s already engraved.’ He paused and considered, ‘Still, a goldsmith could always melt it down as scrap.’
Whisker felt his blood boiling. The anchor wasn’t some cheap trinket to be liquefied in a furnace. It had been a gift from his parents, a family heirloom passed down from his great-grandfather, the famous explorer Anso Winterbottom. No thieving little rodent was going to sell it as scrap.
‘ARRHH!’ Whisker cursed from beneath his gag, ‘ARRHH, ARRHH, ARRHH!’
The gerbil considered him for several seconds, his single large ear swivelling in Whisker’s direction. Realising he was in no danger from the irate rat, he dropped the golden anchor in the sack and rubbed his grimy paws together.
‘And what did we find in their pockets?’ he asked himself, reaching down for the last remaining items. ‘Always things in pockets …’
Whisker heard the crumple of paper and felt a knot in his stomach. Please, no, he thought. Don’t let him see that.
The gerbil held up two folded documents and waved them in Whisker’s direction.
‘Recognise these?’ he asked, toying with the rat.
Whisker tried to keep a blank face. He knew exactly what they were and he prayed the gerbil couldn’t read.
In Eddie’s left paw was an ancient map of Cloud Mountain. In his right paw was something far more modern. It was a page from the local newspaper, The Cloud Chronicle, and it was dated today.
Eddie tucked the folded square of newspaper into his pants and opened the map.
Even if Eddie couldn’t read, Whisker knew that the image that confronted him would be instantly recognisable. There was no mistaking the snow-covered summit and rugged black cliffs of the highest mountain in Aladrya.
‘Cloud Mountain,’ Eddie sniggered, running his eyes over the surface of the map. ‘What an abominable place. I can’t understand why anyone would want to go there.’ He flashed Whisker a crooked smile and added, ‘Unless, of course, you were a bird lover.’
Whisker gave the gerbil nothing in response. For the second time in as many minutes, he had the sick feeling that the devilish little rodent knew far more than he was prepared to reveal.
Eddie carelessly let the map flutter to the ground and then pulled out the newspaper. He paused to check his captives were still secure, before unfolding the double page spread. Any hopes that the thieving pickpocket was illiterate evaporated the instant Eddie began to read.
‘Old news,’ Eddie snorted derisively. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ He shifted his attention to the second page and let out a cry of delight, ‘Ah ha! Now this is worth reporting.’
Whisker watched in horror as the gerbil’s beady black eyes suddenly appeared over the rim of the newspaper. They peered up at him, menacingly, hungrily, like the eyes of a crocodile. Slowly, they began to move from one captive to the next, studying each face, before returning to the newspaper and then moving on to the next face.
The knot in Whisker’s stomach tightened as he realised what the gerbil was doing. He was matching the companions’ identities with four wanted posters from the newspaper – the same four wanted posters Whisker had seen plastered to the boatshed wall.
The gerbil’s eyes disappeared behind the page.
‘All four,’ he chuckled. ‘That will fetch a pretty penny.’
Ruby let out a sharp grunt of anger.
Callously, Eddie began to count, ‘One thousand … one thousand five hundred … two thousand … two thousand five hundred.’ He lowered the newspaper, a look of greedy triumph etched across his face. ‘Perhaps there’s a bonus for the whole gang.’
Whisker wanted to shout, the only bonus you’ll receive will be a one-way ticket to your old cell, but through his gag it came out as a cry of ‘ARRRRRGH!’ instead.
Eddie stuck a finger in his ear to block the sound. Ignoring the captives, he began pacing around the foot of the web, deep in thought and muttering to himself, ‘What to do? What to do?’ He looked down at his trousers and frowned. ‘These prison pyjamas will have to go, and as for my poor missing ear, well,’ he touched his beret, ‘perhaps a disguise is in order.’
He scanned the web, eyeing the companions’ outfits with interest. His eyes came to rest on Anna’s baggy coat. ‘Yes, that should suffice.’
‘ERRRGH!’ Whisker gasped, throwing his body forward as if to say, don’t you dare touch her.
The gerbil took a quick step backwards, his entire body stiffening. He locked eyes with Whisker and watched Anna’s protective older brother vibrating helplessly in the web.
‘You’re a feisty one,’ Eddie said coldly. ‘You and your band of ruffians. And that leaves me with a big dilemma. I can’t cut you down and risk you escaping and I don’t trust this web to keep you secure forever.’ He smiled humourlessly and read from the newspaper. ‘WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE. The gov’nor don’t care what state you’re in and, for two and a half thousand gold coins, neither do I.’ He picked up Whisker’s scissor sword. ‘I think we both know how this ends.’
Whisker looked to his sister and then back to the gerbil, his pleading blue eyes conveying an unspoken question.
‘Oh, no,’ Eddie whistled, turning his back on Whisker. ‘I can’t have one of you revealing my identity. No witnesses. No loose ends.’ He plucked a pine needle from the closest branch and tested the sharpness of Whisker’s sword. With barely a touch of the razor-sharp blade, the pine needle split in two.
Whisker felt a shiver run through his tail.
‘Excellent,’ Eddie said, spinning to face the helpless companions,
